In The Aftermath Of A Fire
by lemondrizzlecake
Summary: A recounting of the lost week between Firestarter pt. 2 and the start of 14B. After the fire, Frankie took a stance against their father; but was it really enough for Mrs. Hollingsworth to kick her husband out? This is my take on the events. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is the first story I have ever published, ever. Also, English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes feel free to let me know in the comments, and I promise to edit it. Hope you enjoy it!**

 **WARNING: mention of child abuse throughout the story, in line with what depicted on the show.**

* * *

IN THE AFTERMATH OF A FIRE

...

 _"…Dad, I nearly died"_

 _"The only thing he cares about is himself!"_

 _"You know, I've had just about enough of that kind of talk, can we discuss this at home?_

 _"But it's true!"_

 _"… Hunter!?"_

 _"I saw him hit Miles."_

 _"He hit you?!"_

 _"It was a heated moment…"_

 _"…Seriously?"_

 _"This is why I wanted him out of the house!"_

 _"Just… get in the car!"_

 _"No. we only go home if Mum comes to pick us up."_

 _[14x12 – Firestarter Par 2]_

 _..._

...

Chapter 1

 _Saturday; evening after the school fire._

...

It was immediately obvious, once their mum got there, that they were in trouble. She came out of the car to hug Frankie, yes, she held her tight and said she was so glad they were all okay. But as she got back inside her face quickly hardened, her expression cold. They all got in the car, her two brothers climbing quietly in the back seat, silently agreeing to let Frankie sit up front – they must have thought she had had a bad enough day without having to fight for shotgun, after all. The engine started, and they were on the way. All was silent, for a while, until their mum spoke, restrained as usual.

"Your father is quite upset for the scene you three pulled out, you know?" she informed them, her voice stern. "And I am, too. I understand you had a hard day, we all had; we were both quite worried for you and the fire. Still, was that really necessary?"

Her words were quite harsh, all things considered, but it would be inaccurate to say they hadn't expected some sort of retaliation. The boys looked briefly at each other, before searching for Frankie's gaze in the rear mirror. They all knew without saying that, if this were yesterday, the twins would have already apologized to their mother, and Miles would be sulking alone, ready to start a fight as soon as they got home. But a lot of things had happened, since yesterday, and a lot of things had changed.

"Mum… he didn't even ask if I was okay…" Frankie feebly argued. She still could not believe it, and thinking about her father's harsh words brought back the same sense of abandonment she had felt before.

"I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding, honey," her mum reassured her, "Your dad was incredibly worried, but you know he is not one to show his feelings in public. Still, what you did to him was very inconsiderate, and it hurt him a lot."

"Like he hurt Miles, when he hit him?"

Hunter's voice was low, but in the compact space of the car it exploded like a bomb, and they all froze in the silence that followed. It was so unlike him to speak up, he was always so quiet. Frankie thought it was the second time, today, that he defended their brother; witnessing their dad hitting him – she couldn't even think the words without shivering – must have really shaken him. She felt him leaning closer to the back of her seat, as if he were trying to gain some strength from her. Miles looked smaller than ever in his corner in the back, launching side-glares to both of them in turn, seemingly afraid to make a sound. It was really not like him either, being so quiet.

"I thought we went over this, and we all agreed that yes, you father had a heated reaction, but Miles provoked him, didn't he?" their mum said, switching her gaze in the rear mirror to look for her eldest. "It's not like you make it easier on your father, now that he's under so much pressure."

"I can't believe you're still defending him!" Miles retorted, suddenly heated. He looked hurt, disappointed by their mother's words. Frankie thought it was quite sad, indeed, that she wouldn't stand up for him on this. Was she really not bothered by their father's violence? Would she be okay if it was her who got hit? Or Hunter?

Their mother stared straight into Miles's eyes in the rear mirror, and her voice was distinctly harsher when she replied, "All I know is that you father is doing his best; he's under a lot of stress, and he's sorry for taking it out on you".

"Like hell he isn't…" Miles muttered under his breath. Diana pretended not to hear him, and continued, "I really hope you kids can show a bit more understanding, and apologise for your behaviour once we get home."

And with that, the discussion was over. Frankie turned around to stare aimlessly out of the window. She felt as if a dark cloud had entered her being, for no matter how hard it was to face her father, before, she had really counted on her mother's love and support. She wondered for a second if this was how Miles felt all the time, and if she had ever made him feel this way. She remembered disregarding his rage at their father as a little rebellious act, something unimportant, not to worry about. She felt guilty for it now, and wished she could go back to when he had needed her, to hug him tight and tell him everything was going to be okay.

...

"Dinner is ready in half an hour," their mother declared, as they walked through the driveway and into their home.

"We're not hungry," Miles answered for the three of them. And they weren't – they had just gorged themselves on tacos less than an hour before, as apparently Frankie had been right, and surviving a fire _did_ make you feel starved. Also, there was no way they would all sit down for that farce that was the Hollingsworth's family dinner, not after all that had just happened today.

Their mother didn't seem to appreciate that, though. She turned around to face them, her eyes glowing.

"Listen to me, I'm really not liking this new attitude of yours," she scolded them. "What's the matter with you today? I suggest you go clean yourself up, and join your father and me downstairs for dinner, as a family. Please?"

"What's going on in here?"

Their father marched in the room, and suddenly the atmosphere drastically changed. It was almost like air was being sucked out of their lungs, and Frankie knew that all three of them could feel it. She instinctively retracted a bit closer to Hunter, at the sight of their father approaching, and noticed Miles shooting her a concerned glance.

"Well, look who's back, the prodigal children have returned. Are you three proud of yourself, for the little scene you caused, today?"

The silence tensed around them at the apparent, cold anger in his tone. A few moments passed without as much as a flinch, gazes shifting uncomfortably on the floor, but when the tension became unbearable, Frankie was the first one to break down. She hesitantly took a step forward and addressed their father, in an attempt to sound conciliatory.

"Dad… I'm sorry we upset you, back at school," she started. Both her brothers turned to her in disbelief, she could feel their glances on her even without looking. What did they expect? Frankie was really not the confrontational type, and maybe, maybe if they did the first step in the reconciliation, all would be back to normal soon enough. "I really am," she continued, "But Dad… you hurt us as well. The way you accused me of those horrible things, how you didn't believe me when I told you it wasn't my fault… it- it really hurt me."

Frankie was almost shaking, the last sentence coming out as a mere whisper. The tension was so thick she could have cut it with a knife, and she just hoped this would work. She had never spoken up to her father like this, ever. She had always been his good girl, and she wanted so desperately to go back to that. Her dad seemed startled for a second as well. He tilted his head, staring right into her eyes, with his signature disapproving look. But it was their mum who spoke first, breaking the silence.

"Honey, what do you want us to say?" she asked, "You said it yourself that you were involved!"

Whoever said that words can never hurt you was a moron, Frankie thought; she felt like her mother had just struck her across the face with all her strength.

"Your father was just trying to do the sensible thing, here. Contain the damage, handle the situation. And you really didn't make it any easier."

"That's right, contain the damage," her father interjected, like he had finally found his words back. "And Frankie… even setting aside your involvement in this outrageous ordeal – which trust me, as your father, is not easy to do… I have to say it again, I am deeply disappointed at your attitude in the past two days, and how you still insist not to take responsibility for your actions."

"But Dad-"

"Honestly, you're not the daughter I thought you were."

" _Seriously?!"_ Miles exploded, but Frankie barely heard him. She felt Hunter leaning closer to her, as her vision got blurry with the tears building up in her eyes.

"Come on, Franks, let's go. Let's get out of here," he whispered in her ear, as he put a protective arm around her shoulders and pulled her away.

"…literally still covered in ashes from nearly _dying_ in a fire! Are you for real?!" Miles was yelling at their father, and she would be worried about their fight, if she could find it in her to feel anything else than the pain her dad's words had just caused. She and Hunter quietly crossed the hall as the screaming match went on, until their mother's voice froze them at the base of the stairs.

" _Enough_!" she shouted – and it took Diana Hollingsworth a lot more than her husband, to raise her voice. The twins turned back on themselves to face her from across the hall, and it seemed even Miles and their dad had stopped fighting. Once she got their attention, their mother lowered her voice to little more than a whisper, and hissed, "You don't want to sit down at the table for dinner, fine. Then get off to your rooms, all three of you, and please make sure you stay there!"

All was silent for a second. Frankie's tears were tracing lines down her cheeks, and Hunter was still holding her at his side. Miles stared wordlessly at their mother, shooting daggers through his eyes, while Hunter just shook his head in disbelief. Then, Miles raised his hands, defeated, and covered the few steps that separated him from his siblings. He was fuming, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might explode. He placed a hand on Hunter's shoulder, and the three of them disappeared upstairs.

...

They retreated into Frankie's room, and as they walked in she let herself fall on her bed, defeated. Hunter climbed up quietly next to her, a hand stroking her trembling shoulders, and Miles took a seat on her other side, at the edge of the mattress.

"What a jerk…" he whispered, trying to break the sound of his sister's quiet sobs.

"Yeah… I can't believe the things Dad just said to you…" Hunter added hesitantly.

"He _hates me_ now!" Frankie cried, big tears rolling out of her eyes.

Miles instinctively reached out to her, a painful feeling spreading inside his guts, for Frankie's tears were truly the worst thing on Earth.

"Franks, don't say that," he tried, "You're so much better than him. It's not worth it, to feel bad, he's not worth it!"

"Of course he is, Miles! He's my dad!" she cried out hysterically, and she sobbed so hard that something broke inside him.

"Franks-"

"Dude, cut it!" said Hunter, in a harsh whisper that sounded miserable, more than angry. Frankie had rolled over towards him to hide her tear-struck face in his shoulder, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her.

Miles was left aside, staring at the twins, and it made him feel even more alone. They had always had each other, he thought. It was so apparent how they _got_ each other – the way Hunter's head was leaning closer to Frankie's, barely whispering a few words which were obviously the right ones; and he knew for a fact that Hunter wasn't exactly the affectionate type, nor the most tactful person alive. Miles couldn't help thinking that no-one had ever consoled him like this, ever. Then again, he had never let his feelings out as openly as Frankie was doing. He didn't know how to.

"Frankie… I'm sorry, okay?" he apologized, leaning over towards her. "I'm sorry. Please, let me make it better, please…"

She slowly turned around, her face a red mask, weakly wiping her own tears away.

"How?!" she asked, her voice broken.

"I… I don't know!" he admitted, and he had never wished so hard to be someone else; someone better, stronger, older – someone who could actually take her and Hunter somewhere safe, away from their father. But he couldn't. So he did the only thing he could: he leaned in and hugged her. He held her close, a tight grip around her tiny waist, his face buried in her shoulder. The strong smell of the burnt ashes on Frankie invaded his nostrils, and he had to open his eyes and take a good look at his sister's room to remind himself that they were safe, she was safe, as the images of the chaos at school came back relentlessly.

He felt Hunter moving closer and reaching out to place an arm on both of their shoulders. And, just like earlier, he was surprised how good it felt, to be this close to the twins. Going back all the way till they were little, Miles could barely recall a handful of times in which the three of them had held each other like this. Today it had already happened twice.

"Why don't you start by taking a shower?" he suggested, softly pulling back from her. "It'll make you feel better. Hunter and I will go freshen up, as well, and we will be back when you're ready, okay?"

Hunter gave her an encouraging look, moving to sit up at the edge of the mattress. Frankie shot a vague glance at the dark patches on her clothes and her skin, almost surprised to see them there. She nodded slowly, lifting herself up from the bed and heading towards the door. Halfway there, though, she stopped. She turned around, her eyes big and liquid, pointed at them.

"You'll be back though, promise?" she asked in a feeble voice. They looked at her intently, both nodding reassuringly. "It's just… I really don't want to be alone, tonight…"

Miles smiled what felt like the saddest smile of his life. He spoke softly, trying to sound calm and reassuring, even though his own emotions were having a party inside him. "We'll be here, I promise. We're not going anywhere." Frankie nodded back, and finally left the room.

As she walked out, Miles suddenly felt all the panic of the afternoon come crashing back on him. He didn't even want to think about what could have happened, he couldn't let himself. The guilt he felt for starting the fire had been somehow at bay, so far, as all his attention had needed to be focused on what was still going on, on Frankie, on making it better for her. But now it all came back, full on, to the point he almost felt dizzy.

"You okay?" Hunter asked. "Dude, you're shaking…"

Miles followed his gaze to see that, indeed, his legs were trembling without him even noticing. And it literally took all he had left in him to make it stop, to calm down, until he regained some sort of appearance of composure.

"Uhm… yeah, sure..." he replied.

He will have to tell them, that it was him. He will, eventually – Miles was never one to shy away from his responsibilities. But not now, now was not the time. He really couldn't bring it on himself to have that conversation now. They needed each other, tonight, and his siblings deserved some peace and quiet, finally, after the rollercoaster of emotions that had been today. Call him a coward, but he just wasn't ready.

"She's okay. She's safe, now," Hunter reminded him. He was looking straight into his face – Miles ended up locking eyes with him the moment he raised his gaze.

"Yeah, I know. You're right," he conceded, suddenly feeling very tired. He let out a sigh, it helped with his nerves. "Why don't you go freshen up yourself? I'll jump in my shower, but I'll be back in a second, so take your time."

Hunter nodded, slowly. The concerned look had not yet left his eyes, but he seemed to accept Miles's suggestion, and head for the door. He stopped mid-way, though, and turned around to face him again, looking dead serious.

"You were right, this morning," he said, "Nothing like this can ever happen again."

Miles nodded back, holding his brother's gaze. There really was nothing to add to that.

...

Miles let a deep sigh escape from his chest the moment he was alone in his bedroom. His room was just across the corridor from Frankie's, their doors facing each other; unlike Hunter's, which was at the other end of the floor, separated from Frankie's by their two washrooms. He had never given too much thought to the disposition, before: he had the biggest room, being the eldest, and the twins had just chosen between the remaining two once they had got old enough to leave the nursery they had shared before. He was glad, now, to have the one closest to Frankie's, as he would have heard her coming back in, just in case he wasn't there yet.

Today had turned out to be hands down the most stressful day in living memory, what with the fight with his Dad in front of Hunter, worrying sick for his sister being trapped in the fire at school, and the nice and tense atmosphere once they got back home. He contracted and released his fists a few times to keep his emotions at bay. He couldn't afford this, he thought. He had to find a way to calm down, and stop replaying the day's events in his head. Frankie had pretty much straight up told him that she needed him, now, and the last thing he wanted was failing her again. The guilt would kill him, he was sure. So, he'll be back in her room before her, like he had promised. He just needed a few seconds to breathe.

He got rid of the shirt he was wearing, and headed to the washroom across the room. He found himself staring at his own image in the mirror, and barely recognizing it – he looked tense, and worried, and _so_ exhausted. He turned around abruptly, not able to face the reflection, and ended up staring at the tiled wall instead. It seemed so inviting; fresh, soothing. Instinctively, he rested his forehead on it, and God, it felt like a miracle right now. He raised his arms above his head, bare skin against the wall, and breathed in heavily in an attempt to calm himself down. All was okay, he reminded himself. Frankie was safe. The mug had missed Hunter. Nobody else got slapped. Nobody got hurt in the fire. As his heartbeat got back to a normal rhythm, Miles trusted himself to leave the safe space against the tiles and walked into his shower. Fresh water would clear his mind, calm his nerves.

Washed and dried, he quickly grabbed a pair of comfy joggers and a tee from his closet and covered again the few steps that separated his door from his sister's. Frankie wasn't back yet, as he had imagined, nor Hunter, so he just sat on her bed, waiting. It wasn't good for him, really, being alone. But the shower had helped him calm down, and he felt a little readier for the rest of the night. Whatever Frankie needed, he would be there.

To pass the time, he found himself staring at the collection of pictures on his sister's dresser. Most of them were of her with her friends, Shay and Lola; a couple with Winston; one or two from Junior High, giggly girls that she barely kept in touch with. And then there were the childhood ones; mini Frankie smiling wide to the camera, her front teeth missing; Frankie and Hunter, dressed to match on their second birthday; the three of them, in their grandparents' garden in Martha's Vineyard, a summer afternoon of ten thousand years ago. They were happy, he thought, they had had a happy childhood. He wondered when things had started going so terribly wrong, and he couldn't give himself an answer.

Hunter came back a few minutes later. He was wearing a black tee and some pyjama bottoms, his damp hair all over the place. Miles gave him a tired smile, to which he nodded back as he took a seat on the floor. He had brought his laptop, and he started scrolling down the Netflix library for something to watch when Frankie would get back. He looked fine, Miles thought, not too worried or too shaken. He stared intently at him, while Hunter was busy doing his stuff. Miles could never really tell, with Hunter, it was so hard to read him. Frankie would have laughed at this, since she always seemed to know exactly what passed through their brother's mind, but to him the boy was a mystery. He honestly couldn't tell if Hunter was fine, or if he was just hiding his emotions very well. It worried him a bit. Although, he supposed, Miles was the first one to constantly bottle up his feelings, so he couldn't really talk. Unlike Frankie, who was such an open book, bless her.

...

Frankie walked back in, eventually, her face clean and radiant, looking tired but definitely more relaxed than before.

"You were right, it actually helped. I feel a lot better!" she said, as she came to sit down on her bed next to him. She was wrapped in her robe, patting her hair dry with a fluffy pink towel, and the scent of her shampoo filled the air between them. She dropped the towel on her lap, looking slightly uncomfortable as she turned to face him, her big brown eyes staring right into his.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you, before," she apologized, "I know you were just trying to help."

"Franks, don't even say it," Miles reassured her, softly.

She looked caught up in her own thoughts, and a little distressed. He stretched a hand out to pat her gently over her knee, to remark that really, it was no big deal, he wasn't mad at her, at all. She seemed hesitant, undecided whether to look at him or not, but then she brought her eyes back up to his and asked what was apparently bothering her.

"Did Dad really… hurt you?"

Miles was startled by the question, as he hadn't expected the conversation to take that direction. He instinctively retreated back, moving his hand away from her. He dropped his gaze, as well, as he knew he was failing miserably at keeping his composure, with all the emotions of the morning coming back to him at her words. Frankie was still waiting, though, the silence getting uncomfortable, and even Hunter had stopped moving altogether.

"Franks… it's- you shouldn't worry about it, really. I'm fine."

"I just… still can't believe he would actually _hit_ you…"

She spoke softly, but the words were hard for him to take. He didn't know how to feel, nor how to handle all the different emotions that were taking over him: he felt so guilty, for the fire, for putting her in danger, and he really wanted to focus on her, to make it up at least a little bit; he was very uncomfortable with the attention suddenly shifting towards him, and also, he was uncomfortable in general talking about what had happened this morning. To make things worse, Frankie seemed genuinely worked up about it, adding up to the guilt he felt towards her: even this was ending up hurting her. Like the terrified look in Hunter's eyes, this morning, wasn't enough. He sat in silence, not daring to look at her, until Hunter moved close to Frankie, leaning against the canopy of her bed.

"But he did," Hunter recalled, a mere whisper.

"Hunter…" Miles tried to stop his brother, but Hunter ignored him.

"He backhanded him across the face, like that." He hesitated for a second, lowering his gaze. "It looked ugly. And for sure it hurt, no matter what he tells you now."

"Stop, please..." Miles raised his pleading eyes to his siblings. Hunter looked conflicted, and Frankie had that face she made when she was so hurt that she didn't know what to say. He looked away, he couldn't stand to see them like this.

"But it's true!" Hunter continued, adamant, a sense of urgency in his voice. "And then I told Mum that it was your fault, but it wasn't, and I'm so, so sorry!"

He abruptly turned his head away from them, his arms crossed against his chest, and Miles suddenly realized that Hunter had been feeling guilty about this all day. It made sense now, it kind of explained all his tiptoeing around him, making sure he was okay, and his speaking up for him – twice, so out of character.

Frankie looked at her twin, confused, and also a bit horrified by his crude retelling of the events. She then turned back to Miles, who was a ball of tension fighting to keep it together.

"I… I'm so sorry, Miles!" she whispered. She had almost said _I can't believe he did that_ , but thought better of it. What a stupid thing to say. Miles looked at her, his distress clearly showing through his darkened eyes.

"It's okay, Franks," he reassured her, regaining his composure. "It's not like I'm the only one he hurt, anyway." His voice was gentler, now, and she felt a fit of rage building inside her at the injustice of it all.

"Well, it's not like he ever hit _me_ , though, is it?" she snapped, and she felt both her brothers shiver uncomfortably at her words, Hunter moving slightly closer to her, Miles turning his face away. She wondered how they'd got so messed up, locked in a room hiding from their parents, debating the various ways in which their dad had screwed them over. The rage left her as fast as it had just come, and she felt deflated, and sad. It's like her emotions were going all sort of places, today, and she couldn't even keep up with them. She scooted closer to her big brother, sitting right at his side, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I'm really sorry," she whispered in his ear as he returned the hug, a hand gently running up and down her back. She couldn't even start to imagine what that must have felt like, being hit by Dad. She recalled the furious looks he gave her before, his hurtful words: those had been more than enough to completely shatter her. What if he had slapped her, too? The mere idea made her shiver.

Miles must have noticed her uneasiness, because he turned his face to kiss her gently on her cheek.

"It's done, now," he said, softly. "It feels like ages ago. And I'd take Dad over you almost dying in a fire anytime, you know," he finished with a crooked smile. You know you're royally screwed when you start making jokes about violent fathers and dying, she thought, but she smiled back, pulling out of the embrace.

"You look tired," she observed, seeing for the first time the dark circles under his eyes.

"You too, sis. You must be exhausted," said Miles, with a weary smile.

"I have Netflix set up," Hunter informed them, "Whenever you guys are cool."

They all stood up, and Frankie started removing cushions from her bed, getting it ready for the night. She placed her robe on the window bench, revealing the frilly summer pyjamas she was wearing underneath, and then climbed into her bed, patting the mattress at her sides to invite her brothers in. They all snuggled underneath the covers, limbs touching as they rearranged her pillows, for there really wasn't much spare space, with the three of them in bed together.

"I kind of feel like watching Gossip Girl until I fall asleep from exhaustion," she stated, enjoying the feeling of comfort that came from having her brothers at her sides. "Is that okay?"

Hunter chuckled, and it was the first genuine smile any of them had pulled off all evening. Miles laid down closer to her, and turned to place a light peck on her damp hair.

"Whatever you want, sis," he said, softly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much to anyone who viewed, followed/favourited, and commented on the first chapter, it really means a lot!**

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Chapter 2

 _Sunday; Eve of the elections._

 _..._

Frankie woke up to the sun shining on her face. She must have forgotten to close the blinds, she thought in the drowsiness between sleep and wake. She had vague memories of watching Gossip Girl until her eyes cried for some sleep, but she couldn't recall switching the laptop off, or placing it away. The night before. _Jeez_. Suddenly all the memories came crashing back on her, and she had to shut her eyes closed once again and take a deep breath to keep it together. She hadn't even properly woken up, yet, and she was already feeling exhausted.

She felt unusually warm, as well, and strangely cramped, and that's when she realized that both her brothers were still sleeping in her bed. She turned her head slightly to her sides, sleepy eyes taking in the scene, and she smiled to herself at the sight of their presence. They looked so peaceful. On her left, Miles was cuddled up on his side, his arms trapped in the little space between them; his head was so close to hers that his hair lightly brushed on her forehead, as she turned towards him. She could feel him breathing, warm air gently stroking on her bare shoulder every time he exhaled. On her right, Hunter was a unique mess of limbs and covers, and the sight of her twin all wrapped up in the floral print of her comforter almost made her giggle. He had turned on his stomach, during the night, and he was taking up a significant portion of the mattress, for someone so skinny. His right arm was outstretched, protectively wrapped around her waist, while his forehead rested by her shoulder, his face buried in the sheets underneath her.

She honestly didn't remember ever sleeping with both her brothers. She had shared the bed with Hunter countless times, growing up, even though not so much in recent times. And she had probably fallen asleep in between them on the backseat of the car, in a few occasions, but this was different. Yesterday had been scary, and painful, and she had felt frightened and hurt; but the sight of the two of them, watching over her in their sleep; the memories of how sweet and comforting they had been to her; waking up to their warm bodies next to hers, it truly made her feel better. Almost… at peace. She took in the feeling, while it lasted. Soon they would all wake up, and then they'll have to get out of her room, eventually, and face their parents. Again. Frankie didn't want to think about it, now. She closed her eyes, wishing to be able to keep it all out for a little longer. She concentrated on the regular rhythm of her brothers' breathing, and she lingered in the feeling she felt right now. She was home. She was safe. She was loved. And God, she loved them both, so much.

Hunter was the next one to wake up, a little while later. He turned around, and stretched his arms, before stopping in mid-air as he realized where he was, and the memories of the night before resurfaced. Frankie couldn't suppress a smile, at the sight of his disoriented face.

"Good morning!" She whispered, rolling gently towards him.

"Hey," he replied, sleepy voice and a genuine smile, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. I've slept really well. Thank you for staying!"

His smile widened, as he let himself fall back on the pillows. Their whispering voices, or maybe the movement on the mattress, ended up waking Miles shortly after. He rolled on his back, scratching his eyes and stretching his cramped arms, before turning back towards them with a sleepy smile.

"Morning, sunshines," he mumbled as he yawned, resting his head on his folded arm.

She sat up, and she stretched to check the time on the clock on her bedside table. 8:24 a.m. They hadn't slept that much, after all – although she wasn't sure what time it was, when they had finally collapsed – but their parents were for sure up already. Her spirit sank a little, at the thought of their parents, the memory of her dad's hurtful words still too fresh. She inhaled deeply, her eyes closed. She felt her brothers moving, sitting up next to her, and as she opened her eyes again she took in the sight of their sleepy heads, messy hair and all. Her own hair was probably a picture, as well, since she hadn't even cared to blow dry it, the night before. Oh, well.

"So… I guess we should get up, and face the family, uh?" She asked, her cheerful voice a vain attempt to hide her feelings about it. In response, her brothers fell back on the pillows with an almost identical groan, Miles staring at the ceiling while Hunter lifted an arm to hide his head beneath it. She stroked them gently on their bellies, with a teasing smile. "Come on, we'll have to, sooner or later. Better get it over with, right?"

"Right…" was the unconvinced reply from Hunter. Both boys sat up, though, looking tired, and a bit defeated. It was going to be a hell of a day…

...

It was around 9:00 a.m. by the time they came down, washed up and dressed. The breakfast table was set up on the patio, but there was no sight of their parents. Normally their dad made a point of taking Sundays off, but with the polls opening tomorrow he was probably hiding somewhere with his campaign staff. None of the kids were missing him, to be completely honest. As they sat down and grabbed some juice, however, their mother appeared, dressed and made up, and took a seat with them.

"Good morning, peanuts!" She greeted in a cheerful tone.

This was typical Hollingsworth protocol, they'd seen it countless times: ignore the ugly fighting of the night before, and act like absolutely nothing wrong was going on. They were all used to it, by now, but frankly they really couldn't be bothered to play along with the charade, this time. Their mother didn't seem to mind the silence, though, and she sipped her coffee absentmindedly, flicking through some notes for the post-elections party.

As she took her first bite of croissant, Frankie's phone buzzed in her pocket. It was Winston, just a quick text:

 _Seems like Zoё came through. Check this._

A link followed, and as she clicked on it she was redirected to the local edition of the newspaper. _'Degrassi Nudes Mistress Revealed'_ , the headline titled, _'The Mastermind Behind It A Grade 10 Student Of The Community School'_. Frankie couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief, scrolling down the article. Zoё's name was never mentioned, for privacy reasons, but that 'Grade 10' attribute was enough to clear her from the ordeal. She turned towards her brothers, her phone handed out, but her mother stopped her in her tracks:

"Frankie, dear, no phone at the table, please. Put it down."

She didn't have time to objects, as her father chose that moment to walk up to them, followed closely by Andrea, his campaign manager.

"Good morning, family!" he started, cheerfully, placing a paper on the table in front of them. "Excellent news came in, turns out that a culprit was named for that scandal at school. Frankie, darling, this looks especially bright for you."

"We were thinking of releasing a statement, our staff is already drafting it," Andrea intervened. "Just to distance ourselves from the rumours in a definitive manner."

"Absolutely." Their dad agreed. "We should resume the tough line we discussed at first, highlight the damage that was done to our family, and to my daughter especially. Frankie, what do you think, would you like to help us with the draft? We will need you for the picture, of course, before the press release."

Frankie stared at her father without a word, a look of disbelief in her eyes. His casual tone was incredible, she thought. How could he just walk in like this, like nothing happened? She jumped up on her feet, her pain and anger clearly spelled out on her face, and then she just left. Miles and Hunter followed suit, without a sound. Even their mother looked startled, for a second.

She ran up the stairs, straight to her room, slamming the door angrily behind her. Miles and Hunter reopened it right away, quietly following her inside. The concern was visible on their face, but Frankie barely noticed it. She was fuming.

"How could he do that?!" She spat out, hands in her hair, pacing up and down the room.

"Franks… calm down…" Hunter tried, an arm stretched towards her.

"Calm down?!" she almost attacked him, "He waltzed in like nothing happened! How could he talk to me like that? How? Like I would _ever_ want to work on his stupid statement, after he demanded I take all the blame!"

She wasn't making any sense, she knew it, the rage building up inside her with every word she yelled. She kicked an innocent chair that was in her way, but it didn't make her feel any better.

"Hey…" Miles chipped in, his voice soft and urgent at the same time. He walked up behind her and she felt his hands gently grabbing her trembling shoulders. He held her in place, resisting her fight, and spoke quietly. "You're right, Frankenstein. But it's not Hunter's fault…"

And at his words, she lost it. She raised her eyes towards Hunter, who indeed looked hurt from her yelling at him, and she felt awful for that. Her stomach ached, and she could feel the tears building up, ready to come down. She leaned back into Miles's arms, shaking.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered feebly, looking pleadingly at her twin. He shrugged in response, a silent _It's okay_ on his face.

Miles wrapped her in his arms, his head resting on top of hers. She turned her face to hide her tears from Hunter, but a loud sob betrayed her. She had always been a crier, Frankie, but she honestly couldn't remember ever crying as much as in the past twenty-four hours. Miles kept holding her, gently stroking her arms for comfort.

"I know, it sucks," he whispered in her ears. "But you'll be okay, I promise."

And she really wanted to believe him, she really did. But this wasn't a fight with a friend at school, something you knew you would get over, eventually. This was her dad. How can anything be okay, when your own dad doesn't even see you as a person who has feelings? She felt fragile and small in a way she never had before. She felt hopeless.

Miles squeezed her gently, and that reminded her that at least she wasn't alone. Her brother turned her around to face him, and slowly wiped the tears away from her cheeks. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, warm hands holding her face. She leaned in towards his chest and let him cuddle her, too overwhelmed to do anything else.

"We're going out, okay?" he proposed a second later, pulling back to look at her. "I'll take you wherever you want, shopping, whatever. We can have lunch somewhere nice in town. We need to get out of here, trust me."

She turned around, searching for Hunter. Her twin was still leaning against the door, where he had been the whole time. He sent her a little crooked smile, nodding encouragingly.

"Sounds good," he conceded.

Frankie took a deep breath. She didn't feel like going out, to be completely fair, but she didn't feel like staying home either. Miles was probably right, they needed to get out of the mansion. The mere idea of her father, downstairs, made her stomach ache again, like it was knotted up.

"Yeah, okay," she agreed, at last. "Let's go."

...

It had been a nice morning out. The sun was shining, the weather perfect, so they had decided to head for the beach. They had spent a few hours there, not doing much, really, and they had had lunch at a Fish & Chips terrace on the lake. On the way back home, Frankie had picked up a stack of magazines that she claimed would get her through the afternoon, and both her brothers had smiled at her enthusiasm for something that small.

Back home, they had headed straight to their rooms, not really wishing to run into their parents. They all felt like they needed some alone-time, as well; as much as they had wanted to be physically close, and take care of each other, they also weren't used to be constantly watched over.  
As he squeezed her hand before letting her go, Miles was happy to see Frankie was way more relaxed, finally, and back to her usual cheerful self. That was the thing, with Frankie: she tended to react really strongly to everything, but her moods were able to change from one end of the spectrum to the other in a matter of seconds. When something upset her, or hurt her, she felt absolutely desperate, and she really was no good at hiding it, unlike Hunter or Miles; but when whatever had triggered her was over, or away from her sight, she was quick to recover, let someone comfort her, and embrace the good sides of life again. Miles thought it must be exhausting, to be like Frankie, constantly letting your emotions overcome you. At the same time, he envied her recovery time, as for him it was unheard of. Yes, when he was upset he rarely let it completely throw him off tracks and stop functioning, but then it took him days, sometimes weeks, to actually feel better about it.

Still, he was glad his sister was the way she was, at least he always knew how to handle her. Seeing her in one of her 'down' moments was awful, and it hurt like hell, but it generally never lasted long. Miles kept repeating this to himself, as he gathered the will to do what he had to. He had waited way longer than he should have, he knew that, but now it was time to own up to what he had done. He owed it to everyone, really, and especially to Frankie. He just couldn't bring it on himself to make her feel hurt, again, after all she'd been through in the past few days, and especially now that she was smiling again. But he knew he had to, he couldn't keep hiding this from her, it would make him feel sick.

Knowing that it was the right thing to do didn't make it any easier, though, and Miles found himself pacing nervously outside of his mother's study for ages, short of courage to walk in. He had debated whether to come clean just to her, or to both his parents together. The idea of facing his father alone was out of question, as after the recent outbursts of violence Miles didn't feel at ease at all, being locked in a room with him. Confessing it only to his mother was tempting, but then he knew that his dad would get involved, and it would probably be worse, so he concluded that telling them together was his best bet. He could hear his parents' voices behind the closed door, and he knew they were alone, as the campaign staff was not allowed in this part of the house. It was his best shot at privacy, now or never.

He felt confident enough that his father would not dare to hit him, in front of his mum, but still his heart raced like crazy in his chest, as he walked closer to the door. Still, even if his dad went all ballistic on him, maybe he deserved it, this time. After all, this was no small prank to confess to: he had done something incredibly stupid, and put the lives of a lot of people in danger – including Frankie's. Gathering his strength, and trembling as the nervous wreck he was, he finally knocked weakly on the door, before opening it and rolling inside.

"Mum… Dad… I have to tell you something."

His parents interrupted their talks, turning around to face him, surprised. And Miles's heart sank, because he definitely didn't have what he needed to do this. But he had to, he knew that. Bracing himself, he stared straight into his mother's eyes and started talking, quietly. Word after word, he saw her face drop, her eyes wide in shock.

The silence that followed was almost unbearable, to the point Miles wished they would start yelling at him already. Eventually, his father gestured helplessly at him, before finally finding his words.

"Are you kidding me?" he burst out, disbelief in his tone. "Are you children timing these little stunts of yours, to be sure to ruin every last second of this goddamn campaign?!"

"Miles," his mother started, addressing her agitated husband, "That is hardly the point though, right? I mean, what were you thinking?" This was for him, and the way she looked at him froze the blood in his veins. "Your sister was _trapped_ in the school, how could you do that?!"

"It was an accident!" He pleaded, desperate for them to believe him.

"So, enlighten us, how did you _accidentally_ light up your school?" his father's furious voice interjected. "Again, might I add?"

Miles felt the familiar, crippling anxiety building up inside him. God, he hated his father, hated him, he could barely stand the sight of him. Yet, part of him, deep inside, had spent the last twenty-four hours torturing himself, using words surprisingly similar. Because he _had_ started the fire, he _had_ put his sister in danger – and no, he couldn't even bring himself to think of what could have happened. And the guilt was eating him alive.

His mum interrupted his misery, her phone already in her hands and a practical tone to her voice. "I have to call the school, set a meeting with Mr. Simpson as soon as possible. Go get ready, now, we'll leave immediately. Come on, Miles!"

He raised his eyes to hers, feeling completely defeated.

"I just… have to do something, first," he pleaded, gaining himself an exasperated look from his father.

"What could you possibly have to do right now that is more important than this?!" he spat out, sardonic, almost challenging him.

"I have to tell Frankie." He stated, blankly.

Not even his parents seemed able to respond to that.

...

He stared at Frankie's door for a good few minutes, before finding the nerve to knock. He felt sick in his stomach, to be completely honest, he really wasn't ready to do this. But did he have a choice? Of course he didn't. He definitely didn't want her to find out from someone else, and he was about to go and make a potentially public admission at school. He owed her the honesty, at least. Gathering every ounce of strength he didn't have, he stepped into his sister's room, to find her lounging on her bed with a magazine.

"Miles!" she greeted, getting up to welcome him in. "Is everything okay?"

Her voice sounded vaguely surprised. After all, they had just agreed to go their separate ways for a bit. She looked good, he thought, almost cheerful, the summery floral dress she wore bringing out her sun-kissed skin from the morning out. The few hours they had just spent at the beach almost felt like another life, right now. He literally dreaded what he had to do, he knew she would not look this happy and relaxed after the talk they were about to have. But he had to do it, there was no way out.

"Franks, I've just… talked… to Mum and Dad," he started, vague enough.

"About what?" she asked, a slight concern suddenly appearing on her face at the mention of their parents. When he didn't reply, she locked her eyes in his, inviting him to go on.

"…Sit down. I need to tell you something important."

Frankie looked puzzled, but did as he asked, and sat down cross-legged on her bed. He mimicked her, taking a seat by her side. God, was this hard. Miles kept looking at her, trying to start, and then moving his eyes away, suddenly regretting it.

"Miles… he didn't hurt you again, did he?" she asked, worrying for the worse.

"What?" he asked, puzzled. "Gosh, no- Franks, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- It's nothing like that."

"Then what is it?"

He opened his mouth to start, but nothing came out. He looked straight at her, helpless.

"What are you scared of?" asked Frankie, not understanding. And how could she?

He hesitated, moving his eyes away from hers.

"I'm just afraid… that you won't look at me the same way, after I tell you."

"That's impossible," she reassured him, confident.

"I would wait until you hear it, if I were you…" He mumbled, moving his eyes away from her, again.

With a loud sigh, he reached back to his pocket, and handed her the sealed envelope he had carried with him.

"What is this?" asked Frankie, looking puzzled.

"A goodbye letter."

"You're leaving?" she questioned, a hint of panic in her voice.

"No, I… I was about to, yesterday. I came to school to give this to you and Hunter, and say goodbye." She looked confused, her eyes moving from the letter, to him, back and forth.

This wasn't going to get any easier, ever. So he locked his eyes firmly on her comforter, braced himself, and started talking, in a low, detached voice. He told her everything, starting from the incident with their father and Hunter: how lost and hopeless their mum had made him feel when she hadn't believed him; how he had tried to talk to their dad, just to get belittled and derided, again; how he had come to school, looking for them, decided to take off. The rage building up inside him, at the sight of their father's smiling face printed on all of those damned flyers for the renewal project, and how he had felt the urge to destroy them, _erase_ them.

And then he stopped, unable to continue. He raised his eyes meaningfully to Frankie, who suddenly moved back from him. Her mouth was open, looking for words, her eyes wide and hurt. Miles thought he had never felt this bad in his entire life.

"Are you saying…?" she hesitated.

"It was me. I started the fire," he whispered, and he quickly looked away, unable to face her, as she brought a hand to her face. "I'm so sorry, Franks. I never meant for it to happen…"

He really needed her to say something. He selfishly hoped she would forgive him, but he would have taken anything else, her shouting, crying, insulting him. None of it came, she stayed quiet, frozen in her place. He didn't dare to look at her, as he knew he would have to face her tears. Hurt, again, because of him. He needed more time, to let her process it, to talk things through, to make up. But time was a luxury he didn't have at the moment, as he heard their parents opening the front door, downstairs.

"I… I have to go, Franks," he said, awkwardly breaking the silence. "I have a meeting with Mr. Simpson."

He waited one more second, reluctant to go, but when he realized that she wouldn't speak to him, he just resigned to leave her alone. He finally shot her a quick glance, and found her still sitting where he had seen her last, not a single muscle moving.

He wouldn't believe it possible, but this was even worse than he had ever imagined it would be.

...

The ride back from school in the car was filled with tense silence. As soon as they parked in the driveway, his father walked out slamming the door behind him, and he marched inside the house without looking back. Miles and his mum followed, but without any trace of the same fury. His mother actually looked more tired than mad, Miles thought, as he hesitated outside the car, not really knowing what to do with himself. She gave him nothing but a quick glance, as she headed towards the door at a steady pace.

"I'm sorry, Mum!" he pleaded, stopping her in her tracks. "I really am," he continued, as she turned around to face him.

Her expression softened, as she saw the anguish on his face.

"Well, it's over, now," she said gently, covering the few steps that separated them. "You were very, _very_ lucky that no-one got hurt, Miles. I hope you realise that."

Miles felt his chest tighten, and the uncomfortable sting of hot tears collecting at the corners of his eyes. As he always did, he focused on pushing them back, a well-oiled machine at that. His mother placed a soft hand on his arm, gently squeezing him for comfort. And he closed his eyes, and cherished the feeling of her brief touch, exhaling his guilt. A moment later she was gone, disappeared inside the house. He was left alone.

He retreated to his room, collapsing on his bed straight away. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to empty his mind, shutting away the wreckage that had been building up in there since the day before. Facing his parents, and then the principal, had been incredibly draining, but he did feel better, now that he had owned up to his mistake. His father despised him, his disappointment clearly showing, but there was nothing new there. And his mum had been worried, and astounded, more than angry, he could see that. Frankie was the one who really concerned him, as he didn't know what to expect. She had obviously been hurt by the truth, as he had anticipated, but her reaction left him not knowing what would come next. And then there was Hunter. Miles had been a real coward, there, and he knew it – he just hadn't been able to tell him in person. He was likely to know, by now, of which he was glad. Miles endangering their sister was probably the worst thing he could ever do to Hunter, and he really wasn't in a hurry to face him. Life sucked, seriously.

A gentle knock on his door pulled him out of his miserable thoughts. He sat up on his bed as his sister peeped through the door.

"Can I come in?" she asked, quietly.

Miles nodded his permission, turning around to face her as she leaned against his desk, her arms crossed over her chest.

"How did it go?" she asked, her face void of emotions.

He shrugged, lowering his gaze.

"I've got community service. Dad will pay for the damages, and they agreed to keep it quiet."

Frankie nodded, a sigh escaping from her.

"So… he bailed you out?"

He nodded, confirming. For once, he couldn't read her tone. Was she pleased he hadn't been kicked out? Was she disappointed, did she hope for a harsher punishment for what he had done? As relieved as he was to not have to face criminal charges or expulsion, Miles himself thought he deserved more than what he got. But Mr. Simpson seemed to believe in his good intentions. He had looked at him like he could see right through him, like he could tell how horrified he was by what he had done, by what could have happened.

Frankie interrupted his train of thoughts, as she moved closer to sit down on his bed. She turned around to face him and gave him a knowing look, one that – again – he didn't really understand.

"I've talked to Hunter," she informed him.

Miles flinched uncomfortably at her words. Whatever was about to come, it wouldn't be nice.

"How did he take it?" he asked anyway.

"He wanted to kill you, so, not well."

Her tone of voice sounded lighter than her words, but Miles didn't dare to look at her, afraid of what he would see.

"We've read your letter," she added, softly.

Again, he didn't reply, not knowing what to say. He had written that letter at his lowest point, and he had wanted her to have it so she could understand why he'd done something so careless. That didn't overcome the fact that this was the most vulnerable he had ever let himself be in front of them, and he was honestly quite scared of what she would say next. He didn't normally let people come this close to him, not even his siblings.

"Miles, whatever Dad told you, to justify what he did to you… it wasn't true," she continued, as he stayed quiet. "You're not bad for us, you're not ruining our family. That's just insane!"

He looked up briefly to her, and saw some genuine concern in her eyes. He knew it himself that he shouldn't let his father's remarks get to him, by now; still, every time, he couldn't help thinking that maybe he was right.

"Franks… I burnt our school down. With you in it!" he whispered, barely audible. "Obviously I _am_ bad for you…"

"Miles… you didn't do it on purpose..." she remarked, softly. "Yes, it was scary, and who knows what could have happened but… it was an accident. Listen to me… It was an accident! It could have happened to anyone. I wasn't even supposed to be in that room, nobody was, you couldn't have known. And even if you did, I know you weren't trying to set the building on fire…"

"Stop, Franks… I…"

"Look at me." Reluctantly, he did as he was asked. His sister's gentle eyes were scrutinizing him, a sense of urgency in her. "It wasn't your fault. It happened, it was a terrible accident, nobody got hurt. Cut yourself some slack, Miles, please…"

"You could have died." He stressed, a broken whisper.

"But I didn't." She sounded definitive, her brown eyes looking softly at his. "I'm sorry for how I reacted, earlier. I didn't mean to make you feel guilty, I was just… in shock, I guess."

His eyes hitched uncomfortably, as he forced himself to face her. She was being kind, and he didn't deserve it. Frankie gave him a little smile, and suddenly he felt overwhelmed by it all, by her forgiveness. She had forgiven him, unlikely as it might sound. She gave him a little caress on his cheek, almost knowing what was going on inside his head, and then leaned in and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back, hiding his face in her neck, taking in the comfort he was given. She stroked him soothingly on the back of his neck, and Miles felt more relieved than he thought he should, the guilt almost dissipating into Frankie's generous gestures.

"And yes, Hunter got over it, by the way. He doesn't want to kill you anymore," she clarified as she pulled back, shoving him slightly on the side with a little Frankie smile. This made him chuckle, despite his best intention. God, he loved her. He just hoped she knew.

...

That evening, the atmosphere was tense, at the dinner table. There were little more than twelve hours left, before the polls opened in the morning, and both their parents could hardly hide their nerves. Andrea and some other staff had been hovering around the house for most of the day, but they had finally left an hour earlier, leaving behind a pile of notes for the photo-op in the morning and the press conference prep that would follow. The kids had tried to sneak out of the dinner, but their mother was having none of it. At the look she gave them, they all felt compelled to reconsider their fight, and reluctantly followed her to the dining room. They mostly sat in silence, as their parents exchanged a few jumpy comments on the last opinion polls that seemed quite tight.

Miles wasn't sure what Hunter thought of him, yet, as they still hadn't talked. He wasn't being hostile, and Miles knew he could trust Frankie's talent for talking him down, but at the same time there was an unspoken uneasiness between them. Frankie noticed it too, and tried to do her best to smooth things over, leaning towards Hunter and silently sending him some meaningful glares. She knew her twin wasn't really mad at Miles; they had talked things over, extensively, and he had agreed with her that it had been an accident. He was probably just shocked, much like she had been at first, and maybe he needed a bit more time to process what had happened.

"So, tomorrow morning you mother and I will head to the ballots by eleven, to cast our votes," their dad announced, interrupting Frankie's thoughts. His voice still gave her chills, after yesterday, and she couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever hear an apology, from him, for the way he'd treated her. She highly doubted it, to be honest.

"We'll spend most of the day at the headquarters downtown, to follow the exit polls," he continued. "We were thinking that since school is closed, you children could come along, hang out there. It would be a nice situation to take an updated picture of all of us for the press release. What do you think, Frankie?"

Frankie froze in her seat, at the unexpected direct call.

"I was quite sad you couldn't join us, today," he continued, "Everybody misses you, on the campaign."

She didn't know what to say; she didn't _want_ to say anything, to be exact, and already she could feel her stomach ache, twisting and contorting at his words. Could he really be so clueless? Or was he purposely trying to punish her? The silence felt uncomfortable, as she perceived everyone's attention pointed at her: her parents, waiting for her to say something; her brothers, shifting in their seats with concern.

"I… I don't think that is a good idea," she whispered.

"…Excuse me?" her father replied, puzzled, but was interrupted by the sound of Miles's fist slamming on the table.

"Can you really not see that you're hurting her?!" Miles asked in disbelief.

Their father looked taken aback, and Frankie let a quiet sigh escape her as all of his attention switched to her brother. Her dad was sporting the usual, mocking glare he reserved for Miles alone.

"And you're clearly the one with the best interest of this family at heart, right Miles? Because I seem to recall you almost burnt your sister alive, along with the rest of your school!"

Everyone froze at the harshness of those words, and Miles looked like somebody had just stabbed him in the back. It was such a low blow, even for their father, and suddenly Frankie felt compelled to say something, do something.

"But he didn't do it on purpose!" she cried.

"Frankie, s _hut up_ , I'm talking to your brother!"

"Leave her alone!" Miles shouted, and their dad lost any remnants of his cool at that.

"Let's make this clear once and for all, I'm not going to accept these tones, understood? Not from your sister, and certainly not from you!"

"Why, are we supposed to sit down and smile politely, while you throw your frustration around at us?" Miles was fuming, she could tell. He had stood up from his chair and was leaning threateningly against their father across the table. Frankie had frozen in her seat, her face blank, and next to her even Hunter was holding his breath.

"Boys, calm down, please, both of you," their mother intervened, trying to sound conciliatory. "Miles, apologise to your fa-"

"Hell no, he's the one who should apologise!"

" _Enough_! This is ridiculous!" Their father stood up, furious, pacing towards his eldest. "I'm not going to have this level of disrespect at the dinner table. If you have something to say, Miles, you can do so in my study, now!" And with that, he grabbed him roughly by the arm and pushed him out of the room, across the hall and into the office. A door slammed, and all they could hear, after, were muffled sounds that clearly masked some shouting from both parts.

Back in the dining room, nobody dared to say a word. The only sound came from their mother's cutlery working against the porcelain plate, while the twins weren't even moving, let alone eating.

"This isn't right…" Hunter finally muttered under his breath. Frankie raised her head in his direction, her own concern reflected in her brother's tone of voice. Their mum dropped the fork and knife at the side of her plate, and raised her eyes towards him.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean, the yelling, this… How long has this been going on, and we treat it like it's nothing, but-" He was clearly getting agitated, Frankie could sense it, but their mum interrupted him.

"Hunter, you know how your father and I feel about your brother's attitude. All he needed to do was apologise, and then-"

But they never got to know what would have happened, _then_ , because in that moment they heard a loud noise coming from the study. It was a sound of wood crashing, like something heavy stomping against the wall, immediately followed by loud noises of objects falling on the floor and glass breaking.

"What the-" Hunter started, but Frankie was already on her feet, headed across the hall. She vaguely heard the other two getting up, chairs streaking against the hardwood floor, and following her outside. She ran along the corridor, but when she finally reached the study and slammed the door open, she stopped still where she was.

"Oh my God!" she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand.

The scene in front of her was unlike anything she had ever seen. Her brother, Miles, was on the floor, his back sprawled against the bookcase – or what remained of it, as a couple of the wooden shelves had twisted out of the light metal frame. All around him were the books and various objects that had fallen down at the impact, and shattered glass from a vase and some ashtrays. And Miles – gosh, Miles… the pain and sheer terror on his face were something she wasn't prepared to see, and it hit her so hard she had to grab the door frame not to fall on her knees. His eyes looked like those of a wild animal, and were pointed right across the room; there, their father stood facing him, the image of rage, hands clasped tight against the edge of the mahogany desk behind him.

Frankie set out to step inside the room, but a firm grip on her shoulders blocked her in her place. She turned around to see Hunter, his face white and his eyes wide and scared, and she saw her own panic reflected in them. Right at that moment, their mother stepped in front of them and into the room. She seemed hesitant for a split second, but then she walked right across towards their father, placed a hand on his arm, and softly murmured, "Come on, love… come with me…"

And Frankie in that moment knew that she would never forget the look on Miles's face, as he watched their mother take away their dad, out on the patio, without as much as a glance in his direction. He looked completely broken.

The moment their parents stepped out of the room, she felt Hunter let go of her, and they both rushed towards their brother.

"Miles… Oh my God, what did he do…?"

"Franks, careful, there's glass everywhere!" Hunter warned her.

Like she could possibly care about the glass! She didn't have it in her to argue with him, though, so they both carefully stepped on Miles's sides, and helped him to his feet. He shut his eyes as he got up, his face a mask of pain (her heart skipped a beat at the sight, and she wanted to scream, and burst down in tears), but he didn't make a sound. Frankie grabbed him by his arm and ushered him out of the room, Hunter close behind them. She tried to be gentle, but her heart was racing at full speed; she didn't even stop when she saw Miles stumble, visibly in pain, as she wanted him out of that damn room, quickly. There would be time for apologies, and softness, later; now it was just pure, absolute fear.

* * *

 **A/N: Just as you thought the poor kids had been through enough... Monster of a chapter, this one, full of many different things. It was exhausting to write, and now I feel like I have tortured poor Miles as much as humanly possible!**

 **SERIOUS NOTE: at some point, when Miles was about to talk to his parents, I had him voice that "maybe he deserved it", referred to the eventuality of his father hitting him. This obviously does not reflect my own views, as I don't believe anyone deserved to be hurt, belittled, or humiliated, ever. It just felt like something that Miles would think, given how guilty he was feeling towards his sister.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: The POVs in this story are all over the place, I'm sorry; so far I had it almost evenly split between Frankie and Miles, but this is all Frankie. It just came out this way. I hope it's not too distracting!**

* * *

Chapter 3

...

They all rushed into Miles's room, where they finally stopped to catch their breath. The twins looked scared and shaken, not really knowing how to process what had just happened. Frankie thought back to the sense of fear and disbelief she had felt only yesterday, as she learned that their dad had hit Miles, and now this, and she wondered how many other times something like this had happened before. The thought made her feel sick. She looked up to Miles, who was leaning against his desk for support, palms clasped around the edge, apparently lost in his own head. From what she could see, for sure he wasn't having any nice thoughts.

Hunter walked up to him until he stood right next to his shaking figure, not quite touching him, but close enough.

"You okay?" he asked, hesitant.

Frankie shot him a look of disbelief. _Okay?_ Seriously? What kind of question was that? How could he be, their brother had just been _shoved_ into a freaking bookcase, sure as hell he wasn't okay!

But Miles just nodded, eyes fixed on the clear table top, and Hunter shifted uncomfortably on his feet, clearly not knowing what to do with himself.

"Okay… good," he added, nodding. "Do you need… anything? Some ice, maybe?" Miles just shook his head, barely acknowledging him. "Okay, then…" Her twin turned his head back towards her, searching for support, but she honestly didn't know how to help, too shaken herself.

"How about I'll just go to my room and grab a few DVDs?" Hunter finally suggested. Speaking directly to Miles, he added, "It'll take your mind off things."

Again, as Miles failed to acknowledge him, Hunter turned to her in search for approval. Frankie just nodded, feeling like a hurricane of emotions was happening inside her, and not really knowing if she could do anything about it. She locked eyes with her twin, and they didn't even need to speak up to know what they were thinking, right now. Yes, of course she would stay here with Miles, there's no way in hell she could leave him alone. Hunter better be quick in getting those movies, though, because she needed him. They all needed each other, tonight, and she honestly couldn't imagine ever stepping out of this room again. Hunter nodded back at her with a blank face, and then he took off, leaving her alone with Miles and her unresolved feelings.

In the newfound quiet, Miles took a couple of deep breaths, before letting go of the support offered by the desk. He took a few steps, slowly and somewhat rigidly, his shoulders tense, and he sat down at the foot of his bed, right on the edge of the mattress. He wasn't looking at her, he looked like he was staring right into the back wall, but without really seeing it. Frankie had to force herself to calm down, push her rollercoaster of emotions aside, and focus on her brother. He hadn't let out as much as a sound, since _before_ , and she was starting to worry about it: it certainly wasn't healthy, to get stuck in his own head like this.

"Miles," she called him, softly, "Please say something…"

But he kept staring into nothingness, without showing sign of having heard her. Frankie walked towards the bed and crouched down in front of him, placing her hands on his knees. She tried to get a hold of his gaze, from that position, but his eyes were elusive, almost determined not to look at her. This close to him, she noticed he was breathing heavily, although very quietly. He kept contracting and releasing his fists, and he looked like he was concentrating very hard on keeping himself together. She didn't know what to do: she got it, that he didn't feel like going over what had just happened; she understood she wasn't supposed to push him, if he didn't want to talk. But she needed so desperately for him to say something, anything, really, just to hear his voice. Just to convince herself he will be fine – they will all be fine.

"Miles…" She tried again, moving her hands up to his forearms, not really knowing how to continue.

But then, something else happened. At first he was just panting, like gasping for air. His face contracted in a way she had never seen before, and a choked sound came out with his breath. His eyes wandered towards her for the briefest second, and then, suddenly, he started crying.

Frankie didn't remember ever seeing her brother cry, not even when they were little; not even that time he had crashed with his skateboard down the driveway, when he was seven, and he had broken his wrist and there was blood everywhere. But he was definitely crying now, wet tears and red skin and that painful expression, and to be completely honest it looked terrifying. She got up to her feet and reached out to him, holding him close to her. He buried his head in her chest, and clutched on to the back of her dress like his own life depended on it, and Frankie experienced a pain she had never felt before – it was visceral, inescapable, and it expanded throughout the nooks and crannies of her own soul. She held his head in her arms, running her fingers through his hair, kissing him softly wherever she could reach. And the entire time, she felt like she was about to lose the fight against her own tears, pushing for her to let them out. But she couldn't let them out, because she was the only person in the room with her brother (her scared, hurt, terrified brother), and so she just needed to get a grip on herself and stop being this damn selfish.

"It's… it's okay," she tried, and her voice came out rusty and broken, and it hurt her in her throat. "It's okay. Shhh, Miles… I'm here, it's okay…"

Nothing was okay, obviously. But again, it's not like Miles was paying any attention to what she was blabbering, anyway. His shoulders kept contracting in her arms, and she could hear him breathe in heavily, like it was such an effort, and sobbing desperately, but without making any sound. She kept rocking him slightly back and forth, gently stroking his shoulders and upper arms – not his back, she was very careful of that, too afraid he would flinch at the touch, and then she would for sure lose it. She didn't have a clue what she was doing, obviously, it was all improvising, and as much as she wanted to be there for her brother, she found herself intensely wishing there was someone else, there with them; someone better, more qualified, someone who would know what to do.

It seemed to be working, though. Miles slowly got a grip on himself, the crying toned down, the sobbing stopped. His shoulders relaxed a little, and he eventually let go of her dress. She hesitantly pulled back from him, letting him wipe away his tears, and noticed how he was very intently not looking at her. He looked… ashamed. He probably was as well, and again she felt a sharp pain hitting her in the guts, for it wasn't him who should feel ashamed, for this, ever.

Without a word, she headed to his bathroom, at the back of the room. She wanted to give him some space, and at the same time she kind of needed a little alone time herself, to pull herself together. Once inside, the door still half open – for she didn't want him to feel alone, ever again, and especially not now – Frankie let a few tears roll over her eyes, but she wiped them away quickly with her hand: she couldn't start crying, not now, because she knew she wouldn't be able to stop, and one meltdown was enough for one night. She gulped down an entire glass of fresh water, welcoming the soothing feeling it gave her. Now would have been a great time for Hunter to get back, she thought, because she didn't know if she could hold it together for much longer.

With one last deep breath, she rinsed the glass in the sink, filled it up again with fresh water, and headed back out. Miles was still sitting on the same spot of the bed where he had been before, his eyes locked to the carpet. He gratefully accepted the glass she was offering him, and drank a few sips from it. It seemed to be working, he looked a bit better than before, a little calmer.

"I'm sorry, Franks." he whispered, his voice rusty. "I'm…"

But he didn't seem able to finish the sentence. He just kept breathing, slowly and heavily, in and out, like it was a chore. She placed her hands on the sides of his face, and kissed him softly on the forehead. Miles reached out to hold her forearms, keeping her from pulling away. His eyes were closed, his breathing getting more regular.

"It's okay," she repeated, for what felt like the millionth time, "I'm glad you could let it all out."

He didn't respond to that, and she just held him in her arms, silence around them. For a few minutes, that was all that happened: Miles kept holding on to her, and she kept stroking his hair lightly, as he calmed himself down.

...

A knock on the door suddenly broke the silence, shaking them out of their embrace.

"Miles, honey, can I come in?"

It was their mother, calling through the door. At the sound of her voice, Miles raised his eyes to Frankie's, and she was once again surprised to see how big and scared they looked (of their mother? She thought, and was slightly taken aback by the idea).

"Please, please Frankie, don't let her in, please…" he almost begged her. He suddenly seemed on the verge of breaking down again, it made her feel uneasy.

"Just a moment, Mum!" she called out, to stop her from entering. His eyes were still on hers, desperate.

"Franks…" he pleaded, but she gently stroked his hand, reassuringly.

"Don't worry, I won't let her get in here." She spoke softly, and he gave her a nod, eyes wide with fear.

Feeling slightly disoriented, Frankie slipped through the crack of the door and closed it swiftly behind her, her own body in between her mother and the entrance to her brother's room.

"He doesn't want to see you, now," she said, matter-of-factly.

Her mother closed her eyes shut for a second, inhaling deeply. When she reopened them, she nodded in understanding, giving her a tired smile.

"I brought this, for him," she said, showing a small tube of some sort of ointment. "If he fell on that bookcase… this will help, you know, if there's bruising."

Frankie took the tube, gazing hesitantly at her.

"Mum… he didn't exactly _fall_ …" she remarked, slowly.

"I know that, honey," Diana replied quietly, sadness in her voice.

The images from before started replaying like flashes in Frankie's mind, making her shiver through the bones. Her brother, lying on the floor. Her mother, walking straight up to their father, placing a hand on his shoulder. All came rushing through her, again, the same confusion as before: why had she not gone to Miles, why had she not hugged him, comforted him? Why had she left them alone to take care of something this huge?

"…You didn't even look at him!" she accused, a mere whisper.

Her words hit her mother hard, she could see it, Diana was speechless for a second. Frankie gave her a scrutinizing look, like she was seeing her for the first time. She looked tired, and a bit shaken herself. The whole ordeal must have affected her just as much, after all.

For a moment, Frankie hoped against all hopes that her mum would hug her, kiss her on the cheek, whispering softly that everything was going to be okay – just like she had done minutes before with her brother. She needed her to do it, because she was scared, and hurt, as much as Miles was. But it didn't happen. Instead, her mum took an imperceptible step back, almost distancing herself from her, from the door, from her brother behind it.

"I was… just trying to remove your father, so he wouldn't hurt him again…" she whispered back, her voice cracking on the last few words.

And there was nothing to add to that. Frankie fidgeted with the ointment in her hands, her eyes low.

"I'll make sure he uses this," she said, and her voice had lost the harshness of before. She had almost opened the door when she changed her mind, turned around again and added, "Maybe tomorrow he'll talk to you. When he calms down."

Her mother smiled a sad smile, gave her a little caress on the cheek, and walked down the corridor, leaving Frankie alone in the dimly lit stillness.

Back in the room, she closed the door behind her, quietly, trying not to make any noise. She couldn't tell why, but she felt like she wasn't supposed to break the silence. Even as she breathed deeply, in and out, filling her lungs to the point they almost hurt before releasing the air, she still tried to do it in a way that was as silent as humanly possible.

Her brother was still sitting on the edge of the bed, exactly where she had left him. His shoulders towards the door, he had just turned his head slightly in her direction as she walked in. His right leg was fidgeting nervously, but in every other way he was still, rigid. She walked down and sat on the edge of the bed, right next to him, so close that their arms were lightly brushing each other.

"She's gone," she said, looking for his eyes. "She left this," she added, playing with the little tube still in her hands. Miles followed her gaze, looking slightly amazed at the sight of the ointment, but he didn't make a sound. He was calmer, now, she noted, the fidgeting had stopped since she sat next to him. He wasn't crying anymore, nor he looked on the verge of breaking down again, and his breathing was back to a somewhat normal rhythm, steady.

"She thinks it would help, you know," she explained, but Miles still didn't seem to acknowledge her, nor want to take what she was offering. "Please, Miles… would you let me…?"

At her pleading voice, he finally looked at her, and whatever he saw in her eyes – how scared she was, how much she wanted to help, how lost and useless she felt – his expression changed slightly.

"Okay." He said.

"Okay?"

He nodded, staring at the floor. He slowly pushed himself up – she noticed again that his movements were stiff, and the sight caused her literal pain in her stomach. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and started to remove it, but the masked pain on his face hit her like a train, and she jumped to her feet.

"Here, let me help you."

He let go of the hem, docile, and she carefully helped him get out of his shirt, gently removing his arms from the sleeves, one at a time, then rolling it up to his neck, before pulling it over his head. Miles didn't look at her once, he just turned around as soon as she was done, exposing his bare back to her.

When she didn't react, his voice barely audible, he asked, "What's the verdict?"

"It's… it's okay," she answered.

It wasn't okay. There were red, angry marks at different heights throughout his back, in the spots where his skin had impacted with the wooden shelves. There were darker patches, as well, blue-ish and purple, around the edges and close to his spine. It looked awful, but what was she supposed to say? She collected herself, pushed down the tears that were ready to roll out, took a deep breath.

"Here, let me see what I can do. This will make it a little better."

She didn't believe her words herself, but what else could she do? The damage was done, the pain was here to stay, for all of them. All that was left was trying her best to comfort him a little. She squeezed a generous dose of the thick gel out of the container, scooped a little bit of it on her fingertips and gently started to spread it over his offended skin. She was afraid of causing him more pain, but he didn't flinch at her touch, so she kept applying the medication on the rest of the marks, a little more confidently. Maybe it didn't hurt as bad as it looked, she thought. Maybe he was just very good at bottling up his pain, by now.

Once she was done, she patted him lightly on his upper arms. Then, suddenly remembering something from when she was little, and her mum would medicate her wounds, she leaned in closer and softly blew some air over the gel. It was supposed to give it a nice, cooling feeling, even if just for a second. She hoped it helped.

Miles turned around to face her and looked straight into her eyes. Without a sound, he pulled her in a tight hug, his arms clasping around her shoulders, his chin resting on top of her head. She could feel him breathing, so close to her. He inhaled deeply, once, twice.

"Thank you," he whispered, finally. "I'm sorry I freaked out on you, it wasn't fair. I know I scared you."

And this time it was her turn to tighten her grip on his shoulders and hide her face against his collar bone. She didn't even try to respond, as she knew she would have lost the battle against her tears once and for all. Instead, she lingered in the scent of her brother, the familiar mix of his skin, and his aftershave, and the fabric softener on his clothes. She inhaled it deeply until it calmed her down, until she felt like she could pull herself away from him, and smile, and she wouldn't break down.

...

Hunter came back a few minutes later, carrying the entire box set of The Avengers in one hand and The Walking Dead in the other. He was also bringing food, a shopping bag full of popcorn and cookies and sugar-coated peanuts and a giant bottle of coke. Miles had put his shirt back on, by then, and every trace he'd been crying was gone from his face. He smiled the first half-hearted, tired smile of the evening – but a smile, nevertheless – and started playing with the various disks his brother handed him.

"I feel more like a movie, than a series, I think." He said.

Hunter smiled back, a bit more convincingly. "Dude, whatever you say, tonight you've full TV-control. Just don't get used to it, okay?" And he took the first disk from his hands to place it in the blue-ray reader.

They all snuggled on the bed together, Miles in the middle, the twins at his sides. It was quite unusual for Hunter to behave so affectionately, and again, like last night, Frankie was quite surprised by it. Not that he went on to hug Miles or anything, but the simple fact that he laid down on the bed with them, instead of sitting at the foot of it like his usual loner self, was telling of the night they'd just had. As for herself, Frankie felt like she couldn't be too close to her brother, tonight; she held on to his arm and rested her head on his shoulder, absentmindedly stroking him with her fingertips. She didn't care too much about the movie, to be honest, she had seen it already plenty of times, but it was kind of nice to have something distracting going on, to take their minds off things. They could all use it.

They ate the pop-corn, and the peanuts. When the movie ended Frankie asked if they could watch another one, and Hunter silently went on to change disks in the reader. Miles said he just needed a toilet break, pushed himself up with some effort, and disappeared in his washroom. It was the first time that Hunter and Frankie were alone since – well, since _before_. Hunter came back to the bed and sat next to her, concern in his eyes.

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she lied. He knew that, too. He pulled his legs up on the bed, turning slightly to face her.

"I saw him crying, before," he confessed. At her surprise, he added, "I came back, earlier, but as I opened the door I saw you two. And, well…" He seemed at loss for words. Frankie looked hurt, and she knew it. She couldn't help it: it had been so hard, and he had left her, alone to handle it. She really wished he hadn't. Unless…

"I though he wouldn't let himself, if I were there," he finished, and then straight away added, "I'm sorry I left you by yourself, I didn't know what to do…"

He seemed really worried. She must have looked incredibly tired. Or drained, or empty. That's what she felt, anyway.

"That's okay, Hunter," she reassured him. "I mean, I really wanted you to come back," she clarified, "But you're right, he needed it." She knew he was right: Miles would never cry in front of him. For some reason she didn't quite understand, he had let his guard down with her, but she knew it was not something that would normally happen.

"There's something else," Hunter continued. He stopped himself to check the bathroom door, but when they could hear the tap running he went on. "I've overheard Mum and Dad arguing. Like, _really_ arguing. I don't want to say it in front of Miles, because I'm not sure of what I heard, but… I think she's kicking him out."

The last words came crashing on Frankie, in a way she hadn't expected. She felt… relieved, of course. Her father had properly scared her, tonight, and if this were true, it was good news they wouldn't have to face him in the morning. At the same time, she couldn't help feeling confused, and sad, and hurt. And she didn't want to think about it, but she knew she had no choice.

"…That bad, then, uh?"

He looked at her knowingly, and was about to add something more, but in that moment they heard the bathroom door opening, and Miles walked back towards them. Frankie managed a smile, and she and Hunter moved to make space for him between them. He smelled of toothpaste and hand soap, Frankie noticed as she laid her head back on his shoulder. She found it strangely soothing, and snuggled a bit closer to him as the movie started.

...

Twenty minutes into the third disk, Frankie noticed Miles had fallen asleep. She checked the alarm clock on the nightstand and saw it was 1:37 a.m.; quite a long day, indeed. She poked Hunter's arm to catch his attention, and silently pointed at their sleeping brother. He nodded back, found the remote, and stopped the film, turning the room into silence. It was completely dark, by now, the only source of light being the screen of the TV, and some feeble moonlight coming through the curtains. Frankie gestured in the direction of her own room, and pointed meaningfully at her clothes; Hunter nodded back, and she silently sneaked out to go get changed for bed. She wouldn't think it possible, but she was feeling even more exhausted than yesterday. It had been an incredibly long and draining day.

As she closed her bedroom's door behind her, Frankie leaned her back on it, and let the silence of the night surround her. Suddenly, all the emotion of the past weekend hit her again, all at once, and she knew for a fact she wouldn't be able to stop the tears, this time. Hell, she had no clue how she had managed the entire evening without crying, to be honest. She held on the canopy of her bed for support, just to avoid crashing on the floor that very second. She then let herself gently slide down, braced herself and cried all the tears she had been holding back.

She didn't think she was making any noise; she was careful not to. Still, in a matter of seconds, Hunter came rushing through her door. He saw her on the floor, curled up and sobbing, and his expression softened, and saddened, at the same time. He knelt down next to her, his legs bent under his body, and he reached out to her, without a word. She abandoned herself against him and cried, and cried, without restrain. She sobbed, and panted, and grabbed his shirt, and there was absolutely nothing, _nothing_ she could do to stop it, now that she had let it start. Hunter held her tight, hesitantly rubbing a hand up and down her back. He ducked his head close to hers, holding on to her as her body was shaken by the sobs.

"I can't… stop!" she apologized, because she knew it hurt him, to see her like this. And she wanted to stop, she was trying, but her body wouldn't let her. It was like the dam she had painfully built the entire night had finally cracked, and now all the tears that had welled up behind it had to flush down, all at once.

Hunter didn't respond, he just tightened the grip around her ever so slightly, letting her be. She took in the soothing feeling of his familiar, skinny limbs around her, and quit any remnants of fight she had left, finally embracing the tears. At some point she would have to stop, she thought. At some point, she would just dry out.

It took her several minutes to calm down, and they felt like several hours. First the sobbing faded, slowly. Then the tears, as well, just ended. She felt completely exhausted, like she had just run a marathon. Her body ached, her throat ached, and she didn't feel like doing anything a part from curling up into a ball and fall asleep, right then and there. Hunter squeezed her gently, and moved some of her hair away from her face.

"Feeling a bit better?" he asked, softly, but his voice still came out somewhat cracked.

She looked up at him, and even in the darkness of the room, she could see his eyes were watery, and a single tear had left a trace down his cheek. She reached out, and gently wiped his face dry with her fingers. No words were needed, with Hunter. He didn't move his gaze from her eyes, not even for a second. When she was ready, he helped her to her feet. When she didn't move, he crossed her room without hesitation, even in the darkness, and retrieved a clean pair of pyjamas from her dresser. He sat on the bench at the foot of her bed while she got changed, staring at the moon outside her window. Once she was done and dressed, he patted her lightly on her shoulder and preceded her to the door.

"Wait…"

She stopped him, as his hand was already on the doorknob. He turned around to face her, surprised, and Frankie threw her arms around his neck, pushing her head close against his.

"Thank you, Hunter," she let out with a sigh. "I really needed it."

He gently pulled back, pinching her lightly on her cheek. "I know," he said simply, with a little tired smile.

They crossed the hall in silence and locked themselves in Miles's room, again. Their brother was still fast asleep, his battered back sunk in fluffy pillows, his arms resting on his chest. He was still wearing the grey chinos and white t-shirt he had worn all night, which definitely didn't seem like a comfortable outfit for the night, but there was no point in waking him up for this, better let him rest. He was lying on top of the comforter, too, so Frankie headed to his closet to retrieve a spare blanket. As she was in there, she also grabbed a pair of comfy lounge clothes and handed them to Hunter.

"I don't think he'd mind," she told him in a whisper.

Hunter smiled to her, then retired to the washroom while she draped the blanked on her brother's sleeping body. She then joined him in the bathroom, as they both borrowed some mouthwash and rinsed their faces in the sink. It felt surreal, to do such simple, everyday movements. Rinse your mouth. Wash your face. Drink some water. Frankie felt like she had aged ten years in the past ten hours, and she could see the same feeling mirrored on her twin's tired face.

"We should try and get some sleep," she told him, gently.

He nodded back at her, absentmindedly. As she was leaving the bathroom, though, he grabbed her by the wrist, silently catching her attention.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered, dead serious. "We'll get through this, together. I promise."

She closed her eyes, letting the words sink in. Tomorrow was going to be another tough day, but right now they could look forward to a few hours of sleep. Together.

* * *

 **A/N: This chapter was quite emotionally draining for me to write, and I really hope you enjoyed it! Reviews mean the world, so please let me know what you think if you have a spare minute :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** **Thank you all so much for all your lovely reviews, and I want to give a special mention to the guest ones: I can't reply to you guys, but please know I appreciate you taking the time to leave me a comment!**

 **A huuuge Thank You to MilesAboveFantasy for editing this monster of a chapter: you're a life saver. Very special thanks also to OkuntinTenfeder who helped me figure out Hunter's mind as I experimented with his POV.**

 **As always, enjoy! :***

* * *

Chapter 4

 _Monday; Election Day._

…

For the second morning in a row, Hunter woke up in a bed that wasn't his own. Miles's room was bigger than his and brighter in the morning – which was probably why he woke up so early. His clothes were also definitely too big, and Hunter could feel his feet wrapped up in the extra length of the joggers he had borrowed while the long sleeved top was unquestionably too wide on his narrow shoulders.

He felt groggy. He supposed that's what happens when you share a bed with two other people, beside the fact that they didn't even properly sleep _in_ the bed, more like on top of the covers, camping style. It was kind of weird, thinking that he had just spent the night sleeping right next to his brother. It was such an unlikely thing for them. Frankie was different, she was his twin, and he was quite comfortable around her. But he and Miles had never been very affectionate with each other – nor liked each other all that much, for that matter – and now that the night was over, it just felt a bit awkward.

Trying to escape the uneasiness, Hunter sat up, his legs dangling at the edge of the mattress, careful not to wake up his siblings. Miles seemed not to have moved an inch during the night, his body still propped up against the pillows. Frankie was all snuggled up against him, her tiny face buried in his shoulder, her left arm wrapped around his. His sister _definitely_ didn't share his concerns about personal space, that's for sure. He stood up in silence, and quietly headed to his brother's washroom. He desperately needed a shower – and some time to think, without his siblings in the way – but for some reason it felt wrong to just leave the room while they were both still sleeping. He would hang out until they woke up. They would face the new day together, as they had done yesterday.

He filled up a glass of water from the tap and downed it, only then realising how thirsty he was. He couldn't even remember whether he had brushed his teeth last night. _Gross_ , he thought, while grabbing some mouthwash from the shelf above the sink. His face looked pale in the mirror, and Hunter quickly moved his gaze from the reflection. He had never particularly liked watching himself anyway, and he hurriedly got rid of his borrowed clothes and jumped in his brother's shower.

The warm water started flowing from the showerhead, hitting his shoulders and wrapping him in a wet blanket. Hunter closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of bliss that came with it: he could picture himself being in a remote place, a different planet, even, one in which the wall of water around him would isolate him from everything, all the ugliness of the days past, and everything that sure was yet to come. His mind reluctantly brought him back to the previous night, the hurt in his brother's eyes, the fright on his sister face, his own confused emotions. The safety of a locked door, three bodies snuggled up on a bed too small. It's weird how some things just feel right, when it's dark outside, and you're tired and scared, he thought. Then morning comes, and suddenly things look different, and feel different. Suddenly you remember you have parents, downstairs, and sooner or later you will need to face them.

...

A good forty minutes passed, before any sign of his siblings rising from their sleep. Hunter had made himself comfortable in Miles's desk chair, reading an old comic book to pass the time. Finally, his brother seemed to wake up as a ray of sun hit him straight in the face. He seemed slightly disoriented, as everyone does when they first wake up. It made Hunter smile.

"Morning, princess!" he teased him, jokingly.

Miles slowly turned his head around, taking in his surroundings, almost surprised when he saw Frankie wrapped around his left arm.

"What… Did you guys sleep here?" he asked, drowsiness in his voice.

"Yeah," Hunter confirmed. "You passed out while watching Iron Man. I think that's a first. And good morning to you, Franks!"

Their sister had just then opened her eyes, woken up by their talking. She groaned back at his greeting, covering her head with the blanket. Frankie had never been a morning person.

"Get out of my bed!" Miles joked with her, poking her with his finally freed arm.

"Leave me alone… tired!" she replied, but she nevertheless rose from her hiding spot. "What time is it, anyway?" she asked, as her eyes struggled to stay open.

"It's almost ten," Hunter replied, leaning in to check the clock on the desk.

"Really?!" she asked, surprised. "Wow. We must have really needed it…"

They all fell silent to that. Hunter could see on both of his siblings' faces that the memories from yesterday were resurfacing, uncalled for and unwanted, just like it was for him. The image of his sister sobbing uncontrollably in his arms came back like a dream, the hours of built-up tension releasing from her body with her tears. It was painful, seeing his own turmoil reflected on their faces, and all of a sudden he felt like he absolutely needed to leave this room to keep his own sanity intact.

He searched for his sister's eyes, automatically checking if she was okay. She gave him a little tired smile, reminding him that no, they weren't good, not yet. _Good enough_ will have to do.

"Well, now that you're both up, I think I'll go to my room and get dressed," he announced nonchalantly. "Knock on my door when you're ready to go downstairs, okay?"

And he was out of the door before either of the other two had fully realised he was leaving.

Frankie watched him take off, and she let out a sigh, falling back on the pillows. She turned around towards Miles, giving him the first proper look of the morning.

"Hey, how are you feeling, today?" she asked, softly.

"I feel like garbage, to be honest," he replied, a little smile curving the corner of his lips. "I really need a shower… jeez, did I sleep in my clothes?!"

As he pulled himself up, though, a groan escaped him, and Frankie worriedly noticed he had shut his eyes closed, his face barely hiding his discomfort. It was all it took for her to sit up in a hurry, leaning hesitantly towards her brother.

"Does it still hurt this bad?" she asked, half concerned half surprised.

Miles took a deep breath, before turning towards her with an attempt of a smile on his face.

"It's nothing, don't worry. I just got up too fast, that's all."

"Miles…"

"I'm fine, really. Now, I seriously need that shower…"

And, without looking back at her, he quickly disappeared in his washroom.

Frankie let herself fall back on the bed once more, and this time taking up much of the suddenly free mattress. She should have probably headed to get ready herself, but she really couldn't find it in her to get up. She was so tired… The memories of the previous day felt like a nightmarish dream, and thinking back she couldn't quite believe it had all just happened in one day. Was it really only yesterday morning that she had stormed off at her dad's uncaring words? That her brothers had taken her out to the beach? Was it only yesterday that Miles had confessed it was him who accidentally started the fire at school? It didn't seem possible that so many things could happen in the span of twenty-four hours, and to be honest her brain seemed to be dividing her entire life in two separate chunks, right now: the time _before_ their dad hurt her brother, and the time _after_ that. Anything else, including her own feelings, hardly seemed to matter, now that something this awful had happened.

The muffled sound of the shower running was coming from the washroom, and Frankie laid silently on the bed, lost in her thoughts. Flashes of Miles's terrified face from the night before came back relentlessly, his broken sobs as he cried in her arms, their father's cold anger, white knuckles clasping on the wooden desk… everything was so vivid, still so fresh in her memories, and she wondered if she would ever be able to push the uncomfortable images somewhere inside her, where they wouldn't hurt her or scare her this much.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted as Miles walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, and moved to his dresser to retrieve some clean underwear. Frankie sat up, ready to leave him some privacy to get dressed, but froze in her place as she took in the sight of his bare back. She couldn't help the gasp that escaped her, and Miles turned worriedly towards her, looking perplexed when he saw her staring right at him.

"…They look so much worse than yesterday!" she explained feebly, her chest feeling tight all of a sudden.

Miles shrugged lightly, lowering his gaze.

"Bruises tend to get worse, before they get better," he tried to reassure her. "It doesn't hurt, I promise. I just feel a bit stiff."

She hesitated, not knowing what was best to do. Should she drop it, as he obviously didn't want to talk? Should she try and comfort him? She found it quite appalling, how detached his voice sounded, like he wasn't talking about his own bruises.

"Is there… anything I can do?" she resolved to ask.

He shrugged again, and she noticed how he had casually turned around, so that she couldn't see his back anymore. He looked properly embarrassed, as his eyes flicked through the room – anywhere but towards her.

"Not really," he said, simply. And the truth hurt, because indeed there wasn't anything she could do to make this better. She hated feeling so helpless.

"Miles…"

"I know." He interrupted, and for once he stared right into her eyes.

The message was loud and clear: _Please, let's not talk about this, okay?_ She nodded in acknowledgement, lowering her own gaze.

"I should go get ready, anyway," she said, changing the subject. "Is it okay if I come back when I'm done?"

He nodded, with a tired smile. "Take your time."

She breathed in deeply, collecting herself. She really wanted to walk up to him and give him a hug, but somehow she felt it wasn't the right time for it.

...

Their mum was waiting for them downstairs. She was lounging in the loveseat in the den, flicking through a magazine and sipping some coffee, but she immediately dropped everything at their appearance, and sent them a tentative smile. She was wearing a nice dress, her make-up as well done as ever, but it was obvious she hadn't slept much, if at all.

"Morning, sweethearts!" she greeted them, "Did you sleep well?"

Frankie shot a look towards Hunter at their mother's words, before they both turned to check on Miles right behind them. As expected, he was shaking his head in disbelief, a sardonic smile plastered on his face.

"Great!" he answered, and for a second he looked straight into their mother's eyes, almost daring her to go on. Her face dropped, even though she tried to keep her composure.

"Miles, honey…" she started, standing up to cover the short distance towards him. She hesitantly reached out, as if to place a hand on his shoulder, but Miles flinched away instantly. Frankie noticed how his face unknowingly dropped, as he shuddered, while the same frightened expression she had seen on him last night resurfaced. Again, she found it unsettling to see him so scared of her.

Their mother was clearly hurt by his reaction; even though she tried not to show it, Frankie could easily see it. She felt bad for her, in a way, but she also understood that they couldn't expect Miles to get over it so quickly, not after how badly he'd been hurt. She had already decided hours before that she would stand between him and anything that threatened to cause more pain – even their own mother.

"I made you some breakfast in the kitchen," their mum then announced, trying a different approach. "Please sit down with me for a moment, I was hoping we could all talk…"

They followed her to the kitchen and did as she asked, obediently taking a seat at the breakfast bar, while she served them juice and some freshly baked banana bread – Miles's favourite. She then sat down herself, opposite them, and tried looking at each of them in turn, before speaking again.

"So… your father didn't spend the night here, and he won't be back for a while." She said it slowly, letting the words and their consequences sink in. Her gaze was intent, trying to catch Miles's, who was still staring straight into his plate. "I _asked_ him not to come back for a while," she clarified.

At those words, Miles finally raised his eyes and stared back at her. His face was blank, no emotion showing at all. Their mother held his gaze, and for a little while a tense silence surrounded them. Eventually, Frankie resolved to be the first one to voice the question they all had, shifting all the attention towards herself.

"So, does this mean you're getting… divorced?" she asked. She didn't even know which answer she was hoping to receive. Hunter's eyes were firmly on the floor, while Miles's expression was indecipherable. She suddenly recalled he was the only one among them not to have had any heads-up on this.

"Well… Yes, that is what's likely going to happen," their mother said, her gaze shifting between the three of them.

Frankie was hit in a weird way by her words, and she imagined her siblings were going through something similar. The images of the night before were still so vivid that she couldn't help but feel relieved at the news that their dad was not going to be in the house from now on. Still, the word 'divorce' gave her chills, it sounded so final. Everything was about to change, and there really was no turning back. No matter how hurt she had felt at the way her father had treated her, she realized now that a big part of her had really hoped to just make up with him, somehow, and go back to how things used to be.

"Why now?" Miles spoke, his tone aggressive, shaking her out of her self-pity. She turned towards him, and noticed that Hunter was staring at him too, the same confusion she felt showing on his face.

"What do you mean 'why now'?" he asked before she could, eyes wide and incredulous.

Miles was still looking straight at their mother, and it seemed like he was testing her, somehow. Frankie suddenly felt like she was intruding in a moment that was supposed to be between the two of them alone, and she turned to Hunter with a puzzled expression. From the look he gave her, she knew that he was feeling the same uneasiness.

"I mean, he's been a jackass forever, why now?"

Frankie was properly confused by her brother's words. She knew this was what Miles wanted, for their dad to leave the house. Why was he suddenly being difficult about it? Why was he mad at their mother for asking him to leave? Then, she suddenly remembered the way things had happened last night, their mother walking out without a single look towards him, and she realised that maybe this wasn't the point. Maybe he was just mad at her, period.

"After what happened yesterday, we both felt it would be best," their mum started. She was trying her best to give him an actual answer to the question, but it was clear that she felt uncomfortable. She took a deep breath, attempting to gather her words. She looked dead serious, when she continued, "I want to make sure you all know that what your father did was not right, and that we will not let it happen again."

Their mother switched her gaze between the three of them while her words sank in. As her blue eyes hit hers, Frankie thought she had the serious-occasions look on, the same one she used every time they were in trouble. Only they weren't, this time, and the term 'serious' had just reached a whole new meaning. It was a silly thought, anyway, and Frankie knew it was just her mind trying not to focus on the real issue, because it was too scary.

It _was_ scary, and confusing, to sit here, and listen to their mother talking about how it was wrong for their dad to hurt Miles, and how they would not let it happen again. It was so out-of-this-world crazy that they were even having this conversation, that they actually needed to have this conversation.

Then, their mum broke eye-contact with her, and returned her full attention to her brother.

"Miles, love…" She tried, stretching her arm across the table to catch his hand, but again Miles pulled back, until he was out of her reach.

"Don't… touch me, please," he almost growled. His eyes were closed, his hands raised at the sides of his head. Away from hers. He looked as taut as a bowstring.

"Okay," she replied, and she reluctantly leaned back in her stool, placing her hands on her lap. She lowered her gaze, looking defeated. Her eyes then caught the time on her silver watch, and she suddenly straightened up, her expression changing.

"I have to go, I'm meeting your father at the ballots at eleven…" She announced, and Frankie saw Miles's face drop in the span of a millisecond.

"What, you're still going?" he interrupted, visibly upset.

"Miles, I have to…"

"No!" he stopped her, "I can't believe this, you're still on his side!"

"I'm not!" she reassured him. She looked at him like she was about to burst into tears, a sense of urgency in her that they had rarely seen. "Miles, honey, I'm not. But it's not that simple."

"Why not?" he retorted, aggressive. "You saw it, Mum, you saw what he did. You said it yourself it wasn't right!"

"Honey… it's just for the press, I promise. I'm not staying there, and I'll be back home as soon as it's over."

"Whatever…" he muttered, and then left the room, tense shoulders and nervous walk.

The sound of a slamming door, a few seconds later, shook them out of their apathy. Only then did Frankie notice that she and Hunter had barely allowed themselves to breathe throughout the conversation.

Their mum looked completely crushed, and for the first time, Frankie really felt bad for her. With a loud sigh, she stood up and moved their plates to the kitchen sink.

"Bye peanuts… I'll be home soon," she said, and then she was out of the door.

...

The twins entered Miles's room to find him leaning against his desk, both his hands clasped tight around the edges.

"What's going on?" Frankie asked, hesitantly walking towards him.

Hunter closed the door behind him, and leaned back against the wall, almost not wanting to overstep his boundaries.

"Yeah… what was that about?" he asked, his face mirroring Frankie's confusion.

Miles didn't reply, he just started stomping one of his fists lightly against the desk, like trying to find a pace for his own breathing.

"Miles, talk to us…" she begged, softly. "I thought you would be happy… why are you so mad?"

"Because!" he snapped, turning around to face them. "It is all fake, like it's always been. She tells us she kicked him out, and the next thing she's going to play perfect-wife next to him for the press!?"

"Calm down, please…" she grabbed his upper arms, holding him in place. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. When had her brother become so skittish all the time? Frankie honestly couldn't give herself an answer.

"She's trying, Miles. It's hard for her as well."

"But it shouldn't be, right?" he spat out, opening his eyes. His shoulder had relaxed a little, but he didn't seem ready to let it go.

"What he did was awful, no kidding," Hunter stated. "But it's all happened so fast! Give her some credit, she did kick him out…"

"She probably just needs some time, to digest this," Frankie confirmed, moving her gaze from her twin towards Miles.

Her brother let out a hiss, one of his sardonic smiles plastered on his face. He shrugged away from her, and she let go of his arms, not really up for the struggle. She stared at him, trying to decipher what was going on inside his head. She got it, he wasn't really in the mood for cutting any slack to either of their parents. At the same time, everything _did_ happen quite fast, just like Hunter had said. For her it wasn't difficult to understand where their mother was coming from. Couldn't Miles see it as well? She looked intently at her brother, noticing how his breathing was fast, again, like he was trying to suppress his anger – or his fear? She searched into his face for the answer to her questions, until an awful thought formed in her mind – or more precisely, the memory of a thought she had already had, last night, and then quickly discarded as it simply was _too much_.

"It was not the first time, was it?" she asked, now, the realisation suddenly hitting her.

Miles didn't reply, nor looked at her. In fact, he completely ignored her question, and her altogether. But she wasn't going to let it go, if that's what he was hoping; she just couldn't.

"How many other times?" she pressed on, managing an almost detached tone. She felt her stomach hurt again, but this time she was the cause of her own pain: it was so obvious, now, how could she possibly have not noticed?

He raised his eyes to her, this time, looking bewildered. She sensed Hunter tense, at the corner of her field of vision, like he was equally uncomfortable with her question.

"Miles, I need to know… How many times has he hurt you before?" she pleaded, no detachment this time, her voice trembling.

He really didn't want to talk about it, she could see it in his eyes. Hunter saw it too, and he shot her one of his looks, but she decided to ignore him.

"Franks, leave him alone…" he tried, as she didn't back down.

"What, Hunter, are you not wondering the same?" she attacked him, suddenly heated. "Come on, last night, and the day before, this is clearly not the first time, just the first time we saw it!"

All was silent after her outburst. Hunter opened his mouth a few times, trying to say something, but he gave up eventually. He just shook his head instead, and retreated further into his corner of the room.

"…A couple of times," Miles finally admitted, his eyes intently fixed on the floor.

Frankie saw the surprise on Hunter's hurt face, as he raised his eyes to look at his brother. She had to focus really hard on trying to calm herself down, as well, for as much as she had expected it, and even feared for worse… hearing it out was something different. She felt a surge of conflicting emotions hit her all at once: sadness for her brother, outrage at her father, disbelief at how clueless she had been. She ended up taking a seat on the bed, and Miles followed her there with a sigh.

"What did he do to you…" she asked, a broken whisper, when it was clear he wouldn't look at her.

She regretted the words as soon as he raised his pleading eyes to hers, begging her to drop it. She hadn't meant to ask him for details, and hadn't realised it would sound that way; she meant it as… an expression of sympathy. At the same time, she couldn't stop thinking about it, her stomach knotted painfully at the mere idea of what her brother had been through…

"I- I can't do this, sorry…"

Miles got up abruptly, and in one swift motion he was out of the door, leaving them puzzled behind.

"Great, Frankie. Just what he needed!" uttered Hunter, harsh.

"Shut up!" She retorted, and ran out of the room to follow Miles down the stairs. But he was out already, the front door slamming aggressively behind him, and as she heard the engine of his car starting, she knew he was gone.

Defeated, Frankie retreated to her room, where she let herself fall on the bed. Hunter followed her inside, a disapproving look plastered all over his face, and frankly she couldn't really deal with him right now.

"You're not going to let him forget about it even for a second, are you?" he accused.

He didn't sound aggressive, but still, he was clearly not pleased with her. But all Frankie could think of was Miles confirming her worst fears.

"How can he forget, Hunter?" she retorted, puzzled, wide eyes remarking her questions. "How could any of us? It was _yesterday_!"

Hunter sat down next to her with a loud sigh, reaching out hesitantly to place a hand on her trembling shoulders.

"I know you need to talk, to process things," he stated, understandingly. "But for Miles… it's just too hard, right now, don't you see it?"

She didn't answer to that, for she knew he was right.

"You have to give the guy some space, Franks…" he continued, softly, but something in his words rubbed her the wrong way, and she harshly pulled away from him.

They had given him space; so much, that they hadn't even known something this horrible was going on in their own house, and for who knows how long.

"No," she decided, "I have to go find him. Apologise. Make sure he's fine."

"…How? He took off!"

"And where do you think he'd go, dummy?" At his clueless stare, she clarified, "He's at Winston's. Where the hell else would he go?"

"Franks, please, just leave it…"

"He's our brother, Hunter! That our dad repeatedly hurt. How am I supposed to leave it?!"

"Look," he started reasoning with her, "When he wants to see us, he'll come back. Let him breathe, Frankie, I'm serious. There's a reason why he left!"

But Frankie wasn't convinced. After all, she thought, sometime when people take off, all they want is to be chased after. She shot a determined look at her twin, her resolution clear.

"I can't," she stated, matter-of-factly. "I'm not going to leave him alone. Ever again!"

Her voice broke on her last few words, and Hunter didn't seem to have anything to add to that. Something clicked in place, and he knew he wouldn't be able to stop her. So he just took a step back, shaking his head, and watched her rush out of the room.

...

"Frankie?!"

Winston appeared behind the opened front door, looking quite surprised to see her.

"Winston, I need to see him; where is he?"

Any doubt she might have had to find Miles here had disappeared when she saw his black convertible parked in the driveway. Winston, however, didn't let her in, but instead came out on the porch and swiftly closed the door behind him. He spoke in a low tone, as if he didn't want anyone inside to overhear them.

"Can you please tell me what happened? You didn't call or text for days, and then Miles shows up here and it's like he's seen a freaking ghost or something…"

"Please, Winston, I need to see my brother!" she ignored his question, trying to sidestep around him. Winston was faster than her, though, and he stopped her in her tracks, holding her firmly by her shoulders.

"No," he said, looking straight into her eyes. "What you need to do is explain to me what the hell is going on."

Frankie didn't answer, she just stared back with pleading eyes, and his resolution seemed to falter a little. He let go of her arms, taking one of her hands gently in his instead, his back on the door to still block her passage.

"Look, Franks, I know that something is wrong. And it's honestly freaking me out, because I care about you – both of you. You know that…"

She hesitated for a second, unable to look at him. She really wanted to tell him everything, she really wanted him to know. The thing is, though, she didn't know where to start. It would be a hell of a conversation, and right now she simply didn't have the energy for it.

"Is… does your dad have anything to do with this?" Winston asked, hesitant.

Frankie raised her eyes to him, unsure of what to say. Of course Winston had guessed, he had known them for over a decade, after all. Also, Frankie suddenly recalled, the last time she had talked to him she had been incredibly upset by how her dad was handling the whole 'Degrassi Nudes' thing. It seemed like another life, right now, but it had only been two days ago. She took a deep breath, and lowered her gaze, not wanting to face him.

"Things have been hard at home, after the fire…" she started, vague enough.

Winston seemed to misinterpret her hesitation, though. "Jeez, Franks, what did he do to you?" he asked urgently, eyes wide with worry.

"Winston, calm down. He didn't touch me!" she reassured.

Her words sunk in, and she realised she had said too much already. And, after a moment of silence, Winston seemed to connect the dots.

"But… he did something to _him_ , didn't he?" he asked, the logical conclusion, concern growing on his face.

"Winston…." she started, conflicted. She didn't know if she was supposed to talk about any of this. "Shouldn't we wait until he tells you?"

"Oh, come on, Franks, he's never going to tell me anything, you know that. He comes here because I don't ask questions, it's always been this way!" he burst out in frustration. "That doesn't mean I don't worry about him, though," he added, his voice suddenly softer.

Frankie let out a sigh at that, emptied. He was right, she knew it. Winston was a good friend, and deserved an explanation, but Miles was never going to be the one giving it to him. She moved to his side, her back resting against the wall, unable to face him. She stared straight to the ground, speaking in a low voice.

"These past few days… they've been a rollercoaster," she started, feeling Winston's concerned eyes on her. Deep breath. "Mum kicked Dad out."

"She what?" Winston interjected, and Frankie could tell this was not what he was expecting to hear. "When did this happen?"

"Last night," she replied, unable to continue. She knew Winston deserved to know, and she wanted to tell him, but gosh, was it hard!

"Crap, Frankie… I'm so sorry!" he said, sympathetic.

Frankie nodded, biting her lower lip out of nervousness, letting silence fall between them once more. Winston clearly didn't want to press her, she could tell, and he let a fair amount of time pass, before asking again.

"What happened, though? I mean…"

He left the words unspoken, but it was clear what he meant. Their mother would not just kick their father out, and the night before the elections, of all times. Frankie raised her eyes to him for a brief second, and all she saw was love and concern staring back. She quickly moved her gaze away, before finally finding the guts to tell him.

"He… hit Miles."

She let that sink in, her chest tightening at the memories, making it so hard to continue. Winston wasn't making a sound, but his unasked questions filled the silence, louder than any words could be. With a deep breath, she braced herself to give him an explanation.

"Things have been really tense, after the fire. Yesterday they had a fight over dinner, and it escalated. Dad…" She closed her eyes, unable to face him; unable to face anything, not even her memories. "He pushed him into the bookcase in his study. Like, really hard…"

She checked on Winston, when he didn't say anything. He looked frozen in his place, disbelief in his eyes. She knew the feeling, of course.

"He's covered in bruises, Winston. It was terrifying…" she whispered. She couldn't look at him, but she felt him pulling back, shifting uncomfortably away from her. She could feel the familiar stinging sensation behind her eyes, but no tears were coming, this time. She had probably cried them all out already.

"And the worst thing is, he's been hurting him for a while, now," she continued, "Miles just told us."

Her voice was a mere whisper, by now, her eyes firmly locked on the concrete floor. When she finally looked up, she saw Winston staring down the front yard, a hand covering his mouth, eyes wide.

"Winston… I swear I didn't know!" she pleaded.

Winston turned back on himself, at that, wrapping his arms protectively around her.

"Jeez, Franks, I know that, you don't have to say it!" She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent. "This is so messed up…" he conceded, not knowing what else to say.

"I really need to see him, Winston. I said some things, back home, he was really upset. I need to make sure he's okay."

He pulled back from the hug, nodding. He gave her a little encouraging smile, and then he guided her into the house, pointing to the family room.

"He's in there," he said, and leaned back to give her some space. "I'll be in my room, if you guys need me."

Frankie nodded back at him, gathering her courage, and then she just walked into the room.

...

Miles was facing the opposite directions, intently staring at the TV screen where the game was playing.

"Took your sweet time, Chewy!" he exclaimed, turning back, and then he saw her. "Oh." he just said.

He turned off the TV, lowering his gaze, waiting. She walked towards him, and sat down next to him in silence.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered, after a little while.

"…Why?" he retorted, "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Really?" she asked. Then she sighed, seeing how puzzled he looked. "I should have noticed what was going on. We all should have."

Her words fell into silence, and Miles didn't move his gaze from the carpet.

"Frankie…"

"It's okay," she stopped him, "I know you don't want to talk about it."

Miles took a deep breath, turning his head slightly to face her.

"I'm sorry I freaked out. I'm not mad at you, I promise. It's just…"

"I know," she reassured him, "I just want you to know that you can always talk to me, if you want to. Or not, it's fine…"

Miles gave her a little smile at her banter. Taking a deep breath, she locked eyes with him, feeling really apologetic.

"I shouldn't have pushed you," she said, and she meant it. Just because she needed to know, it doesn't mean it was the right thing for him.

He leaned back against the cushions, staring right across the room, avoiding her gaze.

"I didn't want you guys to know..." he whispered, almost inaudible.

"But, why?" she finally asked, confused.

"Because… I just felt too… ashamed? I don't know… I didn't want anyone to know."

Frankie moved a bit closer to him, placing a hand on his arm, stroking him gently. His tense shoulders relaxed a little at her touch, but still he didn't move.

"We would have been on your side… you know that, right?" she clarified.

Miles briefly looked at her, but then moved his gaze away, shaking his head.

"I'm not so sure about it…" he murmured under his breath.

"What do you mean? Of course we would have!" she retorted, defensively. His words hurt her, his lack of faith was sort of painful. Did he really think they would side with their dad on something like this?

Miles didn't reply straight away, he just gave her a sad look. He seemed to ponder for a second whether to open up to her or not, and she tried to look reassuring. Eventually, he sighed loudly, bringing his eyes decidedly back to the carpet, before starting to speak.

"The other day, when Dad and I had that fight in front of Hunter… when he hit me, a part of me felt… kind of _relieved_?" he confessed, hesitantly.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, horrified.

"It's just…" he struggled for words. "It was in plain sight, now. I thought something would happen, you know. But then when I told Mum, she didn't even believe me. And Hunter… I know he feels bad for it now, but he basically told her I had pushed Dad first."

His last words froze her in place, she had forgotten about this. Suddenly, she remembered other things as well, how everyone – herself included – had always told him he needed to try harder, to stop picking up a fight with Dad all the time. They _had_ made it sound like it was all his fault. No wonder he never opened up with any of them.

"This is horrible…" she whispered, feeling more guilt towards him than she ever had.

Miles shrugged lightly, turning his face away from her. He seemed uncomfortable, as if talking about his feelings had made him too vulnerable. Frankie thought it was incredibly sad that he would feel this way with her, his own sister.

She stood up, and quietly perched on his knees. She wrapped her arms around his neck and listened to him breathing, so close to her, the regular pace feeling like the only constant she could grasp on.

"I think… you should talk to Mum, about all this," Frankie said after a while. She was still hugging him, so that she wouldn't have to face him. She heard him sigh, and she knew he wouldn't answer her. She pulled back slightly, before trying again.

"She's more shaken than you think, you know. All I'm saying is… you should give her a chance. She might surprise you."

"Franks… I'm just not ready…"

She hesitated at that. She knew their mum was dying to talk to him, figure out what was going on in his head. Make sure he was fine.

"Is it because she didn't believe you?" she asked, trying to put the pieces together.

"I honestly don't even know!" he exclaimed, and he leaned back into the cushions, pulling his hand away from her waist.

He was looking at her with those wide, puzzled eyes. And Frankie finally saw how confused he was, how distressed at his own contrasting emotions. And suddenly his reaction, earlier this morning, made a lot more sense. He simply couldn't just be happy their dad was out, it just wasn't that easy.

She leaned in, and placed a hand at the side of his face. She watched him close his eyes at her touch, and she was surprised at how small he looked to her; Miles was her older brother, and she had always seen him as a grown-up. Invincible. The confident, cocky persona that Miles always wore had prevented her from seeing how deeply hurt he was by his broken relationship with their parents. And Frankie thought that after these past few days, she would never be able to look at him the same way she had before.

She placed a kiss on his cheek, and wrapped her arms around his neck once more, her head resting lightly on his. She hoped that this – the hugs, the affection, the being close to each other – was as comforting to him as it was to her. You could never really know, with Miles.

"Let's go home, okay?" she said, quietly, when she thought he was ready.

He leaned his head on her shoulder, letting her stroke his hair gently at the back of his head. She heard him let out a big sigh, almost trying to build up his resolution.

"Okay," he finally said.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** **A huge _Thank You_ to  FrankstonTheSequel, not only for the incredibly detailed reviews he left to this work, but most importantly for all the help and support he gave me when writing this chapter: I am immensely grateful!**

 **All three Hollingsworth siblings are featured in almost equal amounts for the first time, and Miles's POV is finally back. I missed writing him.**

 **There will be a short epilogue coming up at some point, so if this doesn't sound too final... that's why!**

 **As always, enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 5 

…

Hunter had spent the best part of the morning in his room, relieving his frustration by shooting enemies on his X-Box. The loud noise of the game coming out of his headphones was just what he needed to isolate himself from the rest of the world, and he wouldn't even have realised his sister was back, had she not let herself into his room. He was used to her coming in without knocking – to be fair, he wouldn't have heard her if she did – so he didn't even bother protesting. She usually came in, made herself comfortable on his bed, and waited for him to acknowledge her presence; or, if it was urgent, she would unceremoniously pull down his headphones and elucidate him on whatever needed attention. This time, however, Frankie came to sit on the floor next to him and snuggled up to his side, her arms laced across his middle. This was so unexpected that, given recent events, it made him worry a little.

"What's wrong?" he asked, taking off his headset.

"Nothing…" she replied, feebly, "I'm just a bit… drained."

Her face was buried in his hoodie, and she was taking deep breaths, as if trying to calm herself down. For a brief moment he wondered if Miles had said something mean to her. Frankie could be quite nosey, at times, and he understood their brother wasn't into it at the moment – or ever, really. But he couldn't imagine him taking it out on her, not right now. It must be something else.

"Did you guys talk?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Yeah…" she replied, before falling silent again.

This must be bad. Frankie wasn't normally one for suspense, but Hunter now felt like he was fishing words out of her one by one.

"Is he still at Winston's?" he wondered.

"No, he's in his room. We drove back together."

Okay, so it couldn't be that bad, right? They had talked, and she had convinced him to come back home. Hunter was actually quite impressed with Frankie, even though he would never admit that much to her. Given the look on Miles's face when he'd stormed off, Hunter would have never expected him to actually be willing to talk to their sister, nor to agree to drive home with her just because she asked. He wondered what she had told him, to convince him to let them sort things out. He was happy they did, obviously: Frankie's heart was in the right place, although she had come down a little too hard on their brother, given the situation.

"Is he… okay?" he finally asked.

Frankie shrugged, pulling herself back up to sit next to him. "Not really," she said, "but I mean… we can't seriously expect him to, right?"

He nodded, in silence, not knowing what else to say. Frankie was staring right across the room, her eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Her face had a sort of frown on, like her features were pointing downwards or something, and Hunter knew her well enough to imagine the confusing mess that must be going on in her head at the moment. She looked lost in her own world, but she was probably just trying to put all those thoughts in order.

"How could we not know, Hunter?" she suddenly asked him, her eyes pointed decidedly towards the back wall.

He was taken aback by her words, as he hadn't expected such a blow. He turned towards his sister, quietly, who looked like the spit image of guilt. And Hunter knew that, if only he let himself process the mess of emotions inside him, he would feel the exact same way.

"You know what he said to me?" she asked, turning her head to face him. "He said that he felt relieved, when Dad hit him in front of you. _Relieved_ , can you imagine?"

Hunter raised his eyes to hers, not understanding. "What?" he asked, stupidly.

"Like… somebody finally had seen, and would do something about it," she explained, and Hunter had to turn abruptly the other way, suddenly unable to face her.

He heard her sigh, and then he felt her coming closer, moving around to sit in front of him.

"Hunter… why did you tell Mum it was his fault?" she asked. She wasn't judging him, she was genuinely trying to understand – he knew that. Still, it wasn't easy to give her an answer. It wasn't exactly his proudest moment.

Frankie kept staring intently at him, inviting him to speak to her. When avoiding her gaze became too uncomfortable, Hunter eventually took a deep breath, trying to put the words together in a way that would make sense.

"I don't know, Franks, I was… confused." She didn't let go, so he knew he had to continue. "I didn't know what to think of what happened," he confessed, "It was all so unexpected, first the mug, and then – you know… It was scary…"

"The mug…?" Frankie interjected, puzzled, "What mug?"

Her big brown eyes got darker as she frowned, and Hunter suddenly realised neither him nor Miles had mentioned this at all, since it'd happened, so of course Frankie didn't know. He felt incredibly stupid – because seriously, she didn't need to know. Miles would kill him, why had he told her?

He closed his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts. He had to tell her, now, he obviously couldn't leave her hanging like this.

"On Saturday morning, while they were fighting… Dad got so angry he threw his mug across the room. And I really thought it would hit me, for a moment, but then it shattered against the wall."

Hunter went quiet at the memory of how much his dad had frightened him, the other day. Silence surrounded them, marking the lack of Frankie's reaction. When he gave her a tentative look, he saw her staring back at him, but it was like she wasn't really seeing him, too busy disentangling her own feelings about what he had just told her.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?" she suddenly yelled at him, getting back into herself, and Hunter felt actual chills down his spine at the high-pitched sound of her voice.

"Frankenstein-"

"No!" she interrupted him, "Why is nobody talking in this stupid family?!"

"I didn't want you to be upset about it! Nothing happened, it missed me, and it wasn't even aimed at me to be fair, Dad threw it at-"

He stopped mid-sentence, just then realising this would get even worse.

"…at Miles." Frankie finished for him.

He lowered his gaze once again, tormenting his fingers in his lap.

"I really wish I didn't say what I did to Mum," he confessed, feebly. "I keep thinking that… if I'd told her the truth, last night would not have happened."

It was the first time he admitted this out loud. As much as he had tried not to think about it, the guilt was really affecting him, slowly but steadily growing inside him, overpowering everything else. He sheepishly raised his eyes towards Frankie, and saw that her expression had completely changed. She wasn't mad at him anymore, and she didn't look like she was about to yell either. A gentle feeling emanated from her eyes as she came closer, almost touching him but not quite.

"You can't think that way," she told him, softly, "You can't beat yourself up on it. Hunter, it was not your fault!"

He wished he could believe her. He shrugged, and let out a sigh that said that much, and she seemed to understand – words were never really needed, with Frankie, not for this sort of things. She knew him too well, he knew her too well. No matter how much far apart they would grow as they got older, Frankie will always be the one person he had shared the womb with. Nothing in the world could be stronger than that.

"Do you… do you think Dad would ever hurt _us_?" she asked him hesitantly, seemingly out of nowhere.

He looked at her, dark circles under her eyes and that tired, scared expression that mirrored his own, he was sure of it.

"He already has," he whispered, gently.

"No, I mean… actually _hurt_ us?"

He knew what she meant, obviously, he had known it the first time she'd said it. And he understood why she was asking – part of him had felt the same, as their father struck their brother right in front of him.

"Honestly? I don't know, Franks," he finally admitted. He looked straight into her eyes, feeling a gravity he had hardly ever experienced before, "But I won't let anything bad happen to you – I promise you that."

Frankie stared back into the depth of his eyes. She seemed to ponder over his words for a moment, and then she just gifted him a weak smile.

…

The rest of the day went by in a haze. Frankie was not exactly used to being alone – after all, she'd spent the best part of the last few years building up her popularity, and that had required a lot of socialising. She wasn't comfortable with the silence of her room and the mess in her own head, but recently she'd fallen out with so many of her so-called friends that she wouldn't even know who to call. Well, actually, that was not completely true. In all fairness, Shay and Lola had tried to reach her after the fire, and it was Frankie who turned down their calls.

She missed them, now, of course she did, but talking would be too hard. Frankie knew she wasn't ready to explain to them what was going on, all the ugliness of the past few days. It was like a dog biting its own tail: she couldn't bear the thought of talking to them about her dad, but at the same time she didn't want to talk to anyone who didn't know. Frankie knew she couldn't fake her way through any sort of conversation, right now: she simply didn't have the energy for it.

She ended up spending almost an hour on the phone with Winston, lying lazily on her bed. She hadn't realized how much she missed talking to him until she had seen him in the morning, but she had. It was nice to hear his voice, and he was good enough at avoiding _the_ topic, which she really appreciated. Telling him once had been bad enough, she was in no hurry to repeat the experience.

Good, gentle Winston. The look on his eyes as she finally opened up to him had been a double-edged sword for Frankie. On the one hand, it hurt her so bad to see him hurting. On the other, it was kind of heart-warming to know Miles had someone like him, in his life: someone who will always, unquestionably be on his side. And she had him too, obviously. She was really, really grateful for that.

Her mind went back to a few hours before, as she confessed to Miles that Winston now knew. They were in his car, and her brother had turned his face off the street and towards her for a brief second, long enough to show his exasperation. _How could you?_ His eyes seemed to accuse her, _this is none of your business!_

"He needed to know, Miles," Frankie had told him, simple as that.

And Miles had sighed, his grip on the wheel relaxing a little. He knew she was right. They both knew Winston would never do anything to hurt either of them.

Frankie turned around on her bed, now, not knowing how to occupy her time. She briefly considered calling Winston again, but it had been barely half an hour since they'd hung up, and it was a bit too much even for her. She started scrolling down her social media feeds, but nothing any of her friends were posting seemed appropriate to how she felt right now, and she just grew irritated at seeing pictures of their perfect lives. Lives in which brothers didn't get beaten up, and mothers didn't kick fathers out.

All she wanted to do was spending time with her siblings, to be honest, but she knew that they both needed some space to be alone, not used to having her hovering above them every waking moment. She still felt the need to check on Miles every, like, twenty-five seconds – and she suspected the urge would stay with her for a while – but she also knew she should just chill a little and let him breathe. Miles didn't need a constant reminder of how awful last night had been.

Despite what she had told earlier to Hunter – when she had voiced her darkest fears, something she would never say openly to anyone else, not even Miles – she rationally knew that nothing was going to hurt them, now. The past few days had been a constant turmoil of emotions and drama, with a new low relentlessly hitting them every single time they were finally managing to resurface a little. But now things were different: their dad was out of the house, and that was nothing but good news; their mum was downstairs, ditching their father's Big Day to stay with them, and at the same time leaving them space to heal on their own terms.

Still, she felt so exhausted – from all the crying, and worrying, and the never-ending plot-twists – that she just wanted to get into the covers, hide underneath the pillows, and sleep until the world started making sense again. But not even Frankie was naïve enough to believe things would fix themselves simply out of wishful thinking.

She ended up lifting her laptop from the floor, scrolling down the Netflix library and resuming Gossip Girl right where she had left it the other night – another life, ten thousand years ago. That show was becoming her personal security blanket, she thought, as she let her mind wander over NYC's familiar landscape and the decade-old fashion and style. She ended up dozing off a little – she _was_ tired, after all – and the rest of the afternoon went by without her even caring, or noticing too much.

…

Dinner that night was pretty uneventful. They ordered Thai take-away, and their mum even let them eat it straight from the box, in the den, while watching a movie. Diana sat in silence with them, although she was probably just pretending to pay attention to the TV, and instead refreshing the page with the elections updates on her tablet every five seconds.

The movie was something awful with lots of explosions and bloody battles. Hunter had chosen it, with Miles smirking approval, and Frankie hadn't even tried to push something different past those two. After all, growing up with two brothers had told her how to choose her own battles. Of course she hadn't spent any mental energy trying to remember the title, either. It's not like she was going to re-watch it later, anyway.

As soon as the horror ended, Hunter silently disappeared upstairs, much like any other night of their life: dinner over, time for gaming. Maybe things were slowly drifting back to familiar patterns, after all, although Frankie couldn't quite believe it possible.

"I'm going to get some water… do you guys need anything?" Miles suddenly asked. They had switched the TV to some sort of talk show that none of them was very interested in, and which only served the purpose of filling the silence between them.

"Uhm… could you please bring me a cup of tea?" Frankie asked back, turning around to see him.

"Sure," he replied, the corner of his mouth turning into a little smile. She watched him leave the room, and she thought that he was walking just fine, no stiffness, no hesitation. Whether his back actually didn't hurt anymore or he just learned how to deal with it, she couldn't know.

She turned towards her mother to find her once again lost in her tablet. A big picture of their father surrounded by his campaign staff towered above the article, but Diana didn't seem to be reading it. Frankie crossed the room and sat down on the sofa next to her. Her mum unwrapped herself from the throw-blanket to sit up straight, acknowledging Frankie's presence with eyebrows raised to invite her to speak.

"Does it feel weird, not being there?" Frankie asked, genuinely curious.

Her mother looked hesitant, as if she were trying to understand which answer was best to give.

"A little," she finally admitted, going for honesty. "We've been on with this campaign for months, and I always imagined I'd be with him, tonight. But things have changed." She gave Frankie a weary smile, and she reached out to take one of her hands in hers, "Your father and I really need some time apart, right now. This family needs to heal."

"How do we do that, Mum?" Frankie asked, with urgency. It was a question that had been lingering in her head for days, now.

"Oh, honey…" Her mother wrapped her arms around her, and suddenly Frankie felt like a little girl again, enveloped in the familiar fragrance of her perfume. She had needed this, so much. She closed her eyes, shutting the rest of the world out. It was just her, right now, safe in her mum's embrace.

"It's going to be okay, I promise," her mother whispered softly. "I know it is hard to imagine right now, but you will be fine, we will all be fine. Okay?"

Frankie nodded feebly, still leaning against her mother's chest. Hot tears were rolling over the rim of her eyes and down her cheeks as she silently cried. What for, she didn't even know: Frankie had lost track of what triggered her emotions, by now. She straightened up a little, wiping her face with her fingers, and realised Miles was back from the kitchen, lingering by the door.

"Here's your tea," he said, leaving the mug on the coffee table in front of her.

"Thanks," her broken voice replied. She leaned in to pick it up, and the hot scent of chamomile and lavender reached her nostrils. How sweet, she thought with a smile, as she realised that Miles knew what her favourite evening blend was. He could be surprisingly caring, at times.

"I'm going to bed," her brother then announced to the room, a foot already out of the door.

Their mum switched in her seat, suddenly turning her attention to him.

"Miles, please… can we just talk for a moment?" she stopped him.

"Mum…"

"Five minutes, I promise. Please, honey…"

Miles lingered on the entryway and turned around, giving her an imperceptible nod. Frankie took it as her cue to leave; she placed a soft kiss on her mother's cheek, collected the tea mug, and headed out of the room. She gave her brother a little encouraging smile as she passed by him, but he didn't really respond to that.

Their mother was looking expectantly at him. Miles finally resolved to leave the doorway, and tentatively took a few steps towards her. He didn't make any move to sit down anywhere near her, though. He didn't know exactly why, but he felt way more comfortable standing, and at a safe distance. Maybe he just needed to make sure he could leave if he wanted to.

Diana waited one more second for him to come closer, but then seemed to accept that he wouldn't. Her expression softened, and she started talking in a low, soothing voice.

"Miles, honey… we have to go through this at some point."

As he stayed quiet, not sitting down nor looking at her, she continued.

"I know you don't want to talk to me, right now, and it's fine if you don't. But it would be great if you at least let me talk to you… please?"

Miles shrugged, his eyes switching to the side. He'd stayed, hadn't he? She could talk, if she really wanted to, but he certainly wasn't about to go to lengths to make it easier on her.

Diana took a deep breath, either collecting her thoughts or trying to hide her frustration at his silence, Miles didn't know for sure.

"Honey," she started, "I just need to make sure you know- that you really know that what happened yesterday was awful, and uncalled for. Nothing like that is ever going to happen again in this house, I can promise you that."

Her eyes were wide in anticipation, but her eagerness was only met with a blank stare from his part.

"You already said that, this morning. I was there," he reminded her.

Miles knew he was being harsh – maybe unnecessarily so. He couldn't help it, though. This whole talking thing didn't make any sense to him, and her sudden concern for his well-being was just too little too late. He saw his mother inhaling in silence, closing her eyes for a second. He knew she was trying really hard to refrain from scolding him for his tones, and he wondered for a brief second how far he could push it before she snapped.

"Yes," she acknowledged, in a forcedly patient tone, "And you had questions about why I asked your father to leave. And I know you're upset, and I hoped we could talk about it." Once again she looked at him expectantly, as if she were waiting for him to suddenly open up. Then she must have realised that it wouldn't happen, so she continued, staring intently at him, "Miles, love, what your father did last night… it crossed a line. And I'm really sorry you had to go through it."

Miles stayed quiet at her words, not really knowing what to answer. He knew deep down that it was very unlike his mum to say something like that. He couldn't even remember any other time she actually admitted wrongdoing to him, that's simply not how their family worked. And if he were a better son, he would gracefully accept her effort as the peace offering that it was, and finally give her a break.

His mother was looking straight at him, eyes wide and urgent, "Honey, you have to believe me, I never thought he could ever harm you like this…" she whispered, almost unable to complete the sentence.

Far from being soothing, though, her words actually scratched against a raw nerve, and Miles could feel rage and frustration suddenly overcoming him.

"How could you not, Mum?" he shot back angrily, "I _told_ you he hit me, and you didn't even listen!"

"I know," she accepted, simply, and if she was affected by his reaction she didn't show it. "But I'm here, now. I'm listening," she offered.

Miles felt slightly taken aback, at that, the sudden fury leaving him as fast as it had come. "What do you want me to say?" he asked, unsure.

"We can start by… talking about how you're feeling, maybe?"

And at that he just shrugged, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. She had some nerve to expect him to confide in her, after all that had happened.

"I know this must be hard… and confusing, for you. But I'm trying, honey, I really am…"

She walked nearer to him, as if to come and place a hand on his shoulder, but he pulled away, harshly.

"Don't… please…" he begged her, his voice shaky, while he walked back on himself.

"Miles, honey…" she pleaded, as she took another step towards him.

"I don't _trust_ you!" Miles yelled, his arms stretched out in front of him to make sure she wouldn't come any closer.

"I know!" she replied in a high pitched whisper, tears filling up her eyes.

And Miles stopped still, for he had never seen his mother cry, before, and it was a truly unsettling experience.

He took a step back, letting himself fall on the sofa in front of her. He didn't even object when she moved hesitantly towards him, and took a seat right next. She was wiping her tears away with her hands, and Miles could not bring it on himself to look at her.

"I wish we could go back; I wish I could do something to prevent this," she confessed. She took a deep breath, shifting her eyes away from him. "And I wish I reacted differently, last night… but the truth is, it scared me, Miles, seeing your father like that. I didn't know what to do."

Miles felt an urge to reply something mean, to come back with a sarcastic _You were scared?_ But the words died in his throat before they could come out. He remained quiet, instead, feeling his mother's gaze burning holes on his skin.

"And I can only imagine how scared _you_ were," she went on, as if reading his own thoughts, "This must be so unsettling…"

She left the words hanging between them, and Miles contemplated for a second what best to answer. He could lie and say he was fine. It wouldn't even be a total lie, not in the sense his mother meant. After all, fear of his father had been a constant part of his being for so long now that this last escalation didn't really make any difference. Still, it did, of course. This time had been out in the open. This time, she had finally done something about it.

His mother seemed to see something, in his silent shrug, something that Miles himself wasn't even sure was there. Her eyes were as soft as her voice, as she tried to reassure him.

"Miles, despite what happened, your father loves you. Don't ever doubt that!"

A joyless chuckle escaped from his lips as he muttered an unconvinced "Yeah, right…"

"Of course he does!" she reiterated, almost hurt by his lack of faith. "Honey, listen to me: I swear I'm not trying to justify him – I have no intention to do that – but this is not who your father is. He's been under so much stress, in the past few days, and-"

Miles couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief, interrupting her pathetic excuse.

"What, was he _constantly_ stressed?" he snapped, angry, before he could realise what he was saying – what his words implied. He bit hard into his bottom lip to shut his own stupid mouth, but the damage was done: his mother was looking at him as if the world were falling in front of them.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, feebly, her voice a mere whisper.

He retreated back, his shoulders tense.

"Miles… are you telling me…?"

Diana's voice died without her completing the question. Miles sent a sheepish look to his mother, bracing for her reaction. He saw the realisation hitting her, her face dropping as she grasped the meaning behind his words – the words he never meant to say. She knew. Still, her eyes were pointed at him, wide and questioning, as she waited for him to confirm or deny what he had just hinted at.

They sat in silence, next to each other, the sense of uncomfortable anticipation growing. He finally nodded, quietly, his eyes low to the ground, unable to face her.

"Oh, honey…" she gasped, a hand covering her mouth as her eyes turned glassy with fresh tears.

She left the sofa, walking across the room with her back towards him. She stood by the French doors, gazing out into the patio. She took a few moments to compose herself, but then she turned around and retraced her steps, taking once again her seat at his side.

"I don't even know what to say," she admitted. "Nothing will ever change what's already happened. But honey, please trust me on this: if there's anything I can do to try and make things better, I will do it. I'll do anything in my power to make you feel safe!"

Miles dismissed her words with a shrug, but his mother pulled his chin towards her, gently, forcing him to face her. It was so rare for her to touch him, at all, that her gesture remarked how serious the situation was. She really wanted him to listen.

"I mean it, Miles," she stated, "Your father is not going to come anywhere near this house for some time. I promise!"

He stared back into her eyes, a disillusioned, cold feeling once again building up inside him.

"But you can still go and see him in the meanwhile, right?" he accused her, "Like, say, at tomorrow's post-elections party?"

He saw guilt seeping through his mother's features as her expression changed. He knew he had guessed right, she was still considering going.

"Can we… maybe discuss this tomorrow?" she asked, hesitant.

"Yeah… sure…" he dismissed her. What was the point of this, of talking, nothing would ever truly change.

"Honey… it's complicated."

"What's _complicated_ about it, Mum?!" he attacked her, hurt by her words no matter how hard he tried not to, "He threw me into a piece of furniture!"

"Honey, I love you, but you're not thinking this straight right now. It's been hard enough to keep things quiet while letting you children drop all public appearances, believe me, but you know as well as I do that there will be consequences if I don't at least show up. There will be questions. And you don't want this to be outed in the press, do you?"

She was looking questioningly at him, but her words didn't really require an answer, and they both knew it. Truth is, the raging, furious part of Miles that wanted his father to pay, sure, that part would be happy to see him going down. But what was the price? Was he seriously willing to have his misery spelled out on every single newspaper in Toronto, for everyone to see? Was he ready to answer blunt questions by perfect strangers – because they would come, he wasn't as naïve as that – while he couldn't even keep it together when talking to his own mother?

"I won't go, if you don't want me to," she promised, her voice softer. "But we'd have to come up with something, if that's what's going to happen. I need you to understand that there's nothing simple about this situation, at all. But I'm willing to do whatever you want me to."

She looked intently at him, and he could barely hold his gaze as her piercing blue eyes stared down into his. He felt smaller than ever, a scared child looking for comfort from his mother.

"I don't know what I want, Mum…" he admitted, his words dying in a broken whisper.

Never in his life had Miles knowingly made himself so vulnerable in front of her, giving her such access into his own feelings, and it was incredibly frightening. Somehow, though, his charged words seemed capable of completely shifting the atmosphere in the room. His mother's soft smile felt like a worm embrace, her knowing look reassuring. She stretched her hand out to stroke the back of his, gently, and Miles was surprised at how welcome her touch felt. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the soft cushions behind him, and noticed his body relaxing for the first time today – for the first time in days, months even. It was as if a huge burden had just been lifted from his shoulders.

…

Miles closed the door of his room behind him, feeling like he was walking in a thick haze. The sun had completely set while he was downstairs, and the room was filled with darkness. He moved towards his bed and let himself gently slide on the mattress, facing the ceiling. His back protested a little as his own weight pushed it down against the surface, and Miles took a deep breath, in and out, closing his eyes. He knew for a fact that he would continue to feel on the verge of breaking down until the last trace of those bruises disappeared from his skin, and he honestly couldn't wait for that moment.

What had just happened had left him confused. And he certainly hadn't expected it, when his mum had cornered him in the den. Gosh, recently he felt like he couldn't even stand the sight of his mother, surely she wasn't about to say anything life-changing. And yet, who knows how, she had managed to reach him. Something among the many words she'd said must have resonated with him – Miles couldn't really pinpoint what, but it must have happened, for him to let his guard down like he'd just done.

He still had mixed feelings about it all. Part of him resented her, in a way: she had pushed, and pushed, until she'd found a soft spot, or at least that's how Miles had felt. How else could he explain suddenly letting his weaknesses out in the open, after swearing to himself that he would never, _never…_

Deep breath. He seriously needed to calm down.

Sure, he hadn't exactly talked much, and to anyone else it might seem like nothing, maybe, but not to Miles. He had let her know. He had pretty much told her this had happened before. He had let her come close enough to see right through him, and this made Miles vulnerable in a way he was incredibly uncomfortable with.

He resented her, now, even worse than he had ever resented her before – for not caring, for not seeing, not listening. For letting things happen and leaving him alone. Now that she had finally noticed, Miles wondered if it wasn't too late. He had grown so used to handling things by himself, by now, that he didn't know what to do with her help, and her worry, and her tears.

Yet, at the same time... He thought he would hate the attention, but truth is he hadn't. He thought nothing she could say would ever make him feel better, but actually it did – even if just a little. Miles could almost still feel the warm touch of his mother's hand on his, drawing soothing circles on his skin, her big blue eyes full of regret. It was like Frankie had said: this was hard on their mother too. It had caught her unprepared, to her it had been completely unexpected, and she didn't know how to fix it – but she was trying, Miles had to give that to her. And sure, he was still mad at her, because she _should have_ known, she should have noticed that something was wrong; she was his _mother_ , for crying out loud, how could she have been so blind?

But she hadn't, Miles was sure of it. She hadn't known, and now she knew, and now that she knew she was doing something about it. Dad was not in the house anymore. Miles had given surprisingly little thought to this, considering how much he had wished for it to happen. But thinking about his father was too painful, too complicated, so he just hadn't. He closed his eyes, trying to shut everything out. He was too tired for this, he couldn't really afford to think right now. It required too much energy.

The quiet darkness of his room surrounded him, and Miles concentrated on the sound of his own breathing to try and empty his mind, to stop the racing thoughts that he didn't want to think. Time felt like slipping around him, and he was so focused on the silence that he almost jumped when he heard is sister's door opening – although he doubted the noise was actually that loud. His eyes shot open as he heard her footsteps across the hall, coming closer, and he remained perfectly still on his bed, silent. He was hyper-aware of Frankie's proximity, now, he could feel her breathing at the other side of his door.

Miles knew deep down this must be incredibly difficult, for the twins: their entire world had been turned upside down overnight, their father had scared them to death and then left. And Miles had been so self-absorbed that he hadn't even stopped for five minutes to sit down with them and ask them how they felt about it. Hunter would have hated it, granted, but Miles knew his sister probably needed something like this. Heck, she had followed him around like a lost puppy, checking on him, cautious not to say anything that would make him jump at her.

He imagined her, now, standing there by his door, the concerned look on her face that was lately a constant feature of hers. Frankie had always worried the most about him, he knew that. No matter how much he had hurt her only yesterday, she had willingly set all that aside to be his anchor – last night and today alike. He'd better not forget that, Miles thought, the next time he got frustrated at her for whatever reason. Seriously, he should get over himself already, and try to be a better brother than he had been so far.

He could almost picture what was going on in Frankie's head right now, standing right outside his door, how she was probably debating whether to knock on it or not. On the one hand, her need to make sure he was fine, while at the same time wanting to leave him space. He asked himself what he would prefer, for her to come in or not, and he couldn't give himself an honest answer.

She didn't, in the end.

And Miles was surprised how empty he felt, as he finally heard her closing the door to her own room behind her. Maybe one unintentional lesson had been learnt, from all this mess. Maybe he needed his family, his siblings, more than he liked to admit.


	6. Epilogue

**A/N: ...will it be a happy ending? ;)**

* * *

Epilogue

 _Tuesday; after the elections._

…

It had taken a whole three days after the fire but, finally, the Hollingsworth kids had each slept in their own bed. At around 8 a.m., wide awake, Frankie was still lying under the covers, checking the news on her phone. It seemed their dad had won the elections, at last. It was Tuesday morning, and suddenly they were the family of the new Mayor of Toronto – except they weren't, or at least not in a sense the press would have approved of.

Being their father's children, Frankie knew her brothers also had news alerts on their phones, and they probably had both seen by now. Strangely enough, she felt completely indifferent to the news. Only a week ago, she had been completely invested in the campaign; gosh, the time she had spent organising that stupid youth forum, and countless press releases before that. Still, right now it hardly seemed to matter.

Nothing really seemed to matter, to be honest, and Frankie felt a bit scared about that. She hadn't spoken to any of her friends in days, and she didn't even feel like calling Winston, not really. She just kept scrolling down the online edition of the Toronto Interpreter, feeling a dash of pain in her guts every time she caught sight of her father's smiling face in one of the press pictures. Still, she couldn't keep her eyes off them.

Frankie didn't honestly think that anything would feel back to normal for a while, what with all the craziness of the past few days. She couldn't quite believe yet that their father was gone for good, that he wouldn't be downstairs for breakfast, that he wouldn't greet her in the mornings or give her a lift to school. And he shouldn't, clearly: Frankie wasn't sure she would ever be able to forgive him for what he had done, and right now she was pretty much set on the idea of never talking to him ever again.

She was sure of this, it was the rational, logical response. Then, she wondered, why did she feel so empty?

…

Hunter woke up to someone climbing into his bed, the mattress shifting under the sudden new weight. He turned around, trying to open his eyes and take in what was happening, but _gosh,_ he was so tired. It was like his lids were glued together or something.

"What the…"

"It's just me," his sister voice whispered in his ear, as she snuggled in closer to him, her flowery scent invading his nostrils. Hunter relaxed back into the pillows, giving up on trying to wake up. He had gamed until well into the night, and only got in a few hours of sleep – which probably explained why he felt so terrible.

Frankie cuddled up behind him, lacing an arm around his waist and hiding her face on the back of his shoulder. He seriously should have a chat with her about boundaries, he thought. This sneaking into his room and his _bed_ was fine and all, but also no thanks. Maybe he should just lock his door at night or something. He was too tired right now, though, so he just gave up on life and buried his face in the covers once more.

"Dad won," his sister informed him.

Her voice was just a whisper coming from somewhere behind him, but Hunter immediately knew he couldn't go back to sleep now. When Frankie needed to talk, she'd find a way to talk, and this was definitely one of those times. With a sigh, he rolled on his back and turned his face towards her.

"He did, uh?" he mumbled, voice rusty from sleep.

Frankie scooted closer to him, if that was even possible, and rested her head on his shoulder. "I don't really know how I feel about it," she confessed, and that's when Hunter realised he didn't either.

He had always imagined this moment to be very different. He thought he'd be proud of his dad, happy for his success, excited about the prospect of being the Mayor's son. He had cared about the campaign, worked hard on it, tried his best to help his dad achieve this goal. All of this had kind of taken a backseat in the past few days, and now Hunter mostly felt a lot of confusion about the entire situation.

He still _was_ proud and all, in a way – which was kind of confusing him even more, because maybe he shouldn't. Because his father was clearly not the man he had believed him to be for his entire life. He had hit their brother. He had hurt Frankie's feelings. The father he thought he knew would never have done those ugly things.

Hunter turned his eyes back towards Frankie, still resting on his shoulder. She looked lost in her thoughts, her eyes wandering aimlessly around his room. No matter how annoying he found her at times – especially when she sneaked unannounced into his bed – Hunter couldn't possibly fathom the mere idea of going through any of this without her. Their father had _left_. This was a huge thing, in and of itself, even ignoring all the related ugliness. Hunter was far from being an affectionate person, but right now a little part of him kind of relished in the warmth of his sister, so close to him.

Life as they knew it was over, forever. And deep down, in a place he was absolutely not comfortable exploring, Hunter was afraid their house would never feel the same, now that Dad was gone.

…

Miles didn't come downstairs until well into the morning. He was still trying to get his head around what had happened the night before, his chat with his mother. He felt like a whiny baby just thinking this, but her words had resonated in his head for hours, and he still wasn't sure exactly how he felt about it all.

He stared down to his phone, where the breaking news of the election still covered half of the screen. He wasn't ready for this, he thought, he wasn't ready to look at pictures, read the headlines, hear congratulatory comments. And for the first time since Sunday, he realised how grateful he was that Mum had kicked him out, for good.

As he entered the kitchen, he found his mother sitting at the breakfast bar, her laptop in front of her. She was so concentrated in whatever she was doing that she didn't even notice him, standing by the door.

"Mum…" he called her, hesitant, trying to catch her attention.

"Miles, honey!"

She looked almost surprised to see him. She raised her eyes to him, expectant, quickly disregarding everything else. Miles took a couple of hesitant steps towards her, his eyes glued to the floor.

"I thought about it," he started, nervous. "I think you should go, tonight – to the party. You were right, it's better this way."

His mother looked right at him, a mix of surprise and relief showing on her face.

"Are you sure, honey?"

"Yes," he reassured her. "I know you can't just skip something like this without questions being asked, and it wouldn't be fair on anyone."

A grateful smile curved his mother's lips. "Thank you, for saying that," she said.

Miles moved closer to her, eyeing the pile of paper on the counter in front of her. He hadn't noticed it at first, but his mother was surrounded by a bunch of leaflets and business cards.

"…What's all this?" he asked.

His mother's face changed slightly, at his question, almost caught doing something she wasn't supposed to.

"Oh. It's just some contacts… phone numbers. Of family therapists." She dropped the last piece of information like a bomb, and Miles blinked back at her a few times, puzzled. "I think we should give it a try," she continued, "You know, it might help all of us… to deal."

Miles found himself staring at those resources, mesmerised. Words like _Conflict_ and _Communication_ popped up on most of the leaflets, and Miles was surprised to realise that he didn't feel anything in particular about it all. He felt almost empty, and if anything a bit disoriented, in a light-headed kind of way.

His mother seemed to misinterpret his silence, though. Her posture betrayed a certain anxiousness, as she hurried to distance herself from what she thought he might be thinkig.

"I was going to talk to you and your siblings about it, I wasn't-"

"Mum." He stopped her.

Diana silenced herself, waiting for him to continue.

And Miles walked up to her, stretched out his arms, and hugged her. She seemed startled for a second, but then hugged him back, lacing her arms around his shoulders and cupping the back of his head in her hand.

"I know you're trying," he whispered in her ear, "And I'm sorry I-"

"Shhh…. It's okay…"

She ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, soothingly, and Miles let his forehead rest on her shoulder. His mum was warm, and soft, and he couldn't remember the last time she had held him like this.

"It's okay," she repeated, "You have nothing to feel sorry about. Okay?"

He squeezed her a little tighter, holding on to her like to a lifebelt after a shipwreck. It felt very foreign to him, but also _good_. Maybe he didn't have to keep his defences up all the time, he thought; maybe he could lean back, and let her take care of him, for once.

…

In the early afternoon, their mother disappeared to go get ready for the party. She had a hair and makeup appointment at the salon, and then would head straight to the venue to fix last minute details before the guests arrived. Frankie wondered if she felt nervous at the prospect of seeing their dad, so soon, if she felt the burden of having to perform in front of the press. If she did, she wasn't showing it, anyway: she looked on top of things, as always, busy and flawless.

All three of them gathered in the den, in a sort of silent agreement to stick together now that they had the house to themselves. The TV was on, but they weren't paying too much attention to it. Hunter was mostly on his phone, and Miles was sitting at the corner of the sofa, unusually quiet. Frankie took a seat right by his side, her eyes wandering in search for his.

"You did a good thing you know?" she told him.

Miles looked back at her questioningly, so she clarified, "It made Mum really happy."

It was sort of an understatement – Mum had been literally beaming when she found her in the kitchen after Miles had left. Frankie thought it was really sweet of him to try and make things right.

Her brother didn't really answer, but she caught the faintest smile slightly twisting his face as he lowered his gaze. She patted him amicably over his knee, and then headed back to her corner near the window, where she had left the book she was reading before lunch.

As she did so, though, the sound of an all-too-familiar voice forced her to turn back on herself. It was no mistake, their father had just appeared on TV, in the latest edition of the local news. Surrounded by his campaign staff, relaxed and charming, laughing pleasantly at the reporter's questions, there he stood: her dad, the newly-elected mayor of Toronto.

Frankie immediately saw the changed expression on Miles's face. He was almost transfixed, his eyes staring wide at the images on the screen, his fists tensing at the sound of their father's voice. She went for the remote as quickly as she could, and immediately switched off the TV.

Miles was practically panting, his face a mask. She turned towards Hunter, who had stopped still where he was and was staring back at her, eyes wide in anticipation. They exchanged a quick look, then both turned back to their brother.

Frankie traced back her steps hesitantly towards Miles, stopping short of actually touching him.

"He's gone, Miles," she said, quietly.

He raised his eyes to meet hers, his expression hard. He didn't say a word, just nodded, exhaling slowly. For a second, it was just like Sunday night, all over again. But then he closed his eyes, and as he breathed in and out once again, his tensed shoulders seemed to relax a little. And Frankie thought that she was incredibly proud of her brother.

She decisively covered the little distance left between them, making space for herself on his lap. She crossed her arms around his neck, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. Hunter moved up from his spot on the loveseat just opposite them, and she felt him dropping down right behind her. She turned her head towards him, without leaving Miles's shoulder, and she saw her twin nestled up on the sofa, his head reclined on the backrest. She gave him a tentative smile. He smiled back, the corner of his lips curving slightly upwards.

They were all right. Everything was going to be all right.

…

Fin

* * *

 **A/N: Finally, this story is now complete! I truly hope you enjoyed it, and I look forward to reading your comments :)**

 **A special mention to a guest reviewer called Lilly, who mentioned a while back she would like to see how the Hollingsworths ended up in family therapy: I only managed to briefly touch on it here, but I should still credit her for the idea!**

 **I have also re-uploaded the previous chapters, after fixing a few mistakes I noticed. I made a few minor edits to Ch1 following your comments, trying to tone down Hunter's affectionate side. Nothing major, but if you go back and it sounds different, that's why.**

 **A final thank you to all of you who followed this story until the end. You're all awesome, and you all deserve a hug! :)**


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